Bases Loaded
by Dream Walker's Obsession
Summary: *AH/AU* One Kiss. One Touch. One roll in the sheets. Just one time to make me forget about her. But once wasn't enough. Neither was ten. Or twenty. Or even one hundred. But number one-hundred-and-one did me in. Now my career is hanging in the balance, and the person responsible for saving my ass is the very woman I walked away from ten years ago.*I DO NOT OWN THE CHARACTERS*
1. Chapter 1

**_It was only supposed to happen once. _**  
**_One Kiss. _**  
**_One Touch. _**  
**_One roll in the sheets. _**  
**_Just one time to make me forget about her.  
But once wasn't enough. Neither was ten. Or twenty. Or even one hundred._**

**_But it was number one-hundred-and-one that did me in._**

**_Now my career is hanging in the balance, and the person responsible for saving my ass is the very woman I walked away from ten years ago to pursue the said career._**

**_It's bases loaded, the bottom of the ninth, two outs, and only one pitch left to end the game._**

**_Will I strike out? Or will I knock it out of the park and take her home?_**

* * *

_**Chapter One**_

* * *

"Dimitri, you have just won the World Series, what are you going to do now?" the scrawny, pocket-protector-wearing reporter spoke the question into his recorder before stretching his arm out to catch my answer.

Grating my knuckles against the scruff along my jaw, I take a moment to consider his question. The first thing that pops into my head is, _I'm going to Disney World._

That's what usually happens right?

You win the biggest game of your career and spend the next week of your life living like a child, doing all the things you never got to do because you spent every waking moment preparing for this; for one game, or in my case, seven, that in truth, means jack shit.

It's just another tick mark in the 'W' column, another piece of brass on the shelf and pennant to fly high on the pole, nothing more than a title.

And yet, I have worked my entire life for this moment, to be a World Series Champion, and now that it's here, all I want to do is to go home. I want to walk off this stage, leave behind the reporters, the groupies, the fame, and be alone.

"Dimitri," the pocket-protector reporter repeats my name, pulling me back to the present.

I adjust my cap, curving the bill as I pull it up, then back down to shield my eyes from the dozens of spotlights scattered around the interview room. I have always hated these things, but as part of my contract, I am required to sit at this table once a week.

Leaning forward, I pinch the mic between my thumb and index finger, "I'm going home," I pause for a beat and push away from the table, "no more questions."

Rising from my chair, I catch the eyes of my manager, who is less than happy with my abrupt cutoff. Shrugging my shoulders, I raise my brow to say, _what-are-you-going-to-do, _and step off the stage.

"Belikov," he calls out over the clack of his designer shoes on the concrete floor, "where are you going? We have three more interviews."

"No," I shake my head and pull open the back door, pausing to look back at him. "I am done for the season. Take a vacation, Ash, you earned it," tossing two fingers in the air, I end the conversation.

Don't get me wrong, Mason Ashford, _Ash,_ is the best manager money can buy, but the little prick needs to remember his place. This isn't our first season together, or even the second, he has been by my side since the start, six years now. He should know by now when I say, _'I'm done,' _I mean it.

"Don't get into…." he starts to yell, only to cut himself off with a loud sigh.

I point to the ceiling without looking back, letting him know I heard him, even if I have no intention of taking his advice. And he knows it too.

Turning left at the end of the hall, I swing through the locker room to grab my bag, taking one last look at my second home.

At the end of every season, I always take an extra few minutes to simply sit in my locker and think back on the year. In the past, I would wonder what I could have done differently over the last seven months to get us further. Should I have worked out an extra thirty minutes every day? Should I have learned to put just a little more spin on my breaking ball?

This year, though, I don't have to wonder what I should have done differently, because three hours ago, I became a champion. I, along with my team -_I'm not that much of an ass that I won't acknowledge the team effort_\- brought home the title of World Series Champions.

Brushing my seat clean of the blue and white confetti, I stare into the small cubby of my locker, lifting the lid on the bottom to see my hidden pleasure. None of the guys know that these are here, and if they did, I would probably never hear the end of it.

Taped up in no particular order is a dozen of pictures of my former life. My mother, sisters, cousin, friends, and my Roza- the latter is always the hardest to look at. Call me a masochist because it's a pain I welcome frequently.

She was the light of my life, my whole world, and my little sister's best friend.

We met when we were kids, I was twelve, she was ten, and her family had just moved in a few houses down. Her and Viktoria became fast friends, inseparable to the point where Rose lived in Vika's room on the weekends, and sometimes during the week too.

Vika claimed Rose off limits to me, and our cousin Adrian, as soon as they met, and it only grew stronger the longer the friendship went on. Adrian didn't have much of an issue with it, he had his eyes fixated on a pretty blonde at school. I, on the other hand, had a very... _hard_ time accepting it.

Still, I tried not to fall for her for Vika's sake, but in the end, I couldn't stop myself. She was, surely still is, beautiful inside and out. She had this air about her, a charisma, you just couldn't help but want to be around. Her friends were her family, and her family her everything. She would move heaven and earth to make the ones she cared about happy, and go out of her way to help anyone in need.

Not to mention her breathtakingly gorgeous body, but that was second to the beauty of her soul. I held out for as long as I could -_five years to be exact-_ until the pull between us became too much to resist, and I, _we,_ gave in.

It was meant to be a one-time thing, feed the fire and then put it out for good. But one night turned into two, and then three, and well, you see where this is going.

Every time we came together, the fire spread, taking over my body first, igniting my skin with the simplest touch. And then my mind. She was everywhere, in my dreams, my waking thoughts, I couldn't escape it, and at the time, I didn't want too. She captivated my senses, lingering on my lips, her scent in my nose, long after I walked away. Her spirit clung to me, making me feel things I didn't know I was capable of.

That's when she took over my heart.

Not even the roar of the crowd can make my heart explode the way it did when she would whisper 'I love you' right before she fell asleep tucked tightly against me.

It was amazing, wonderful, and beautiful, but it was also extremely dangerous.

I never knew it was possible to love someone so much.

And I had to let her go.

Not only because she is my little sister's best friend, but because her whole life was in Baia. Her dad, her friends, and her education, I couldn't rip her away from that to follow me around as I chased my dreams, making her put her life aside for mine. Not to mention, she still had two years of school left, and I know her father would never allow her to drop out and fly around the world with me.

I have known since I was ten that I wanted to play ball professionally. I wanted to move away from our small town in Russia and make something of myself. Working day and night to become the best, and when I received the scholarship to the _University of Texas- Austin_ for the foreign exchange student program, I hesitated.

_Fucking hesitated._

The offer was there, _my dream come true_, and I hesitated because the stupid muscle inside my chest shattered at the thought of leaving her. I didn't want to chase the dream without her by my side to enjoy the ride. I wanted her with me through every up and down, the good and the bad, but in order for that to happen, I would have had to rip her away from her only family, forcing her into the life of a 'ballplayer's wife', it wouldn't be fair to her.

I was faced with a choice; decline the offer and wait until she could come with me, or pack my bags and leave now. If I declined the offer, I would forfeit my chance at a better life, with no guarantee of another opportunity being dropped in my lap. And if I packed my bags, I had to say goodbye to my only reason for breathing, but it would give both of us the shot we deserve.

So I did what I thought was best for the both of us, -_alright mainly myself, because I was a selfish bastard back then, still am most days- _and I packed my bags, booked the first flight out of Omsk that I could find, and left without telling anyone until I landed in St. Petersburg for my first flight change.

Dick move?

One hundred percent.

I won't argue with you on that point. I am man enough to accept the fact that leaving her, along with my entire family, and childhood home, is top notch asshole material.

_But,_ in my defense, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I couldn't let it slip by. I know had I talked to her before I left, I wouldn't have gone, and that would have left me regretting my choices. I would have blamed her as well as myself. Truly, I was in a lose-lose position, neither outcome would give either of us the lives we wanted.

For six months I tried contacting her, calling, texting, emailing, and Skyping, _all_ of which went unanswered. Not that I blame her, I would be mad at me too. At that point, I knew it was time, I had to let her go -_well, for the most part._ I still love her, lord knows I always will, but she deserves more than a man who ran with no explanation, who couldn't love her for the world to see but only hidden behind closed doors.

I often wonder about her, if she is still living there, or if she moved on. But I usually let those thoughts drift away on the sandy beaches of my dreams, keeping them locked inside my own head. It's probably for the best, though, to let her move on with her life, find her own happily ever after. She deserves the world, and if I can't give it to her, I hope someone else does.

Pressing the photo to my lips, I pull in a deep breath, holding it for just a moment, as if savoring the smell of her lavender skin, before letting it back out and replacing the picture to its holding place.

Shouldering my duffle, I pause at the door with my hand on the light switch, taking one final look around the empty locker room.

"You did it, Comrade, you made it," I whisper to myself, sticking the knife a little deeper in my own heart. With a flick, I switch off the light and head down to the team garage where my car is parked.

Climbing behind the wheel of my Porsche 911, I toss my hat on the dash, my bag onto the passenger seat, and press the start button, enjoying the sweet purr of my baby. The dash lights up the dark interior, black leather upholstery, _like the inside of my heart_, with a paint job and rims to match.

Connecting my phone, I turn on my post game playlist, a mix of eights alternative and Texas Red Dirt country. When I was growing up, trying to learn English, I listened to a lot of American music, and when I moved here, I learned to love the sound of acoustic guitars. I have tried a few times to learn to play, but I haven't quite mastered the art yet.

The drive to my house is short, only taking ten minutes to pull into the garage. Punching in the code, 0321, the alarm disarms and automatically unlocks the door. My keys hit the granite countertop, the sound echoing through the bare space, accompanied by the thud of my boots on the hardwood floors.

Opening the fridge, I pull a _Shiner Light_ beer off the shelf, pop the top and tip the bottle back, tossing the top next to my keys. The crisp, cold, liquid slides down my throat,_ fucking delicious, _and I let out a satisfied sigh.

Setting my beer down, I pull out my phone to check my messages. As always, Mama sent a few during the game, congratulating me every time I struck someone out and called when I closed out the ninth, sealing our victory.

Listening to her voicemail, I don't even manage a smile at the sound of her excitement, for the overwhelming guilt smothers every ounce of joy in my life. Sliding my finger over the message, I delete it, saying to myself that I will call her in the morning, but knowing deep down I won't get around to it.

As I said, it's been years since I actually spoke to anyone in my family. When I first left, I called home weekly. Weekly turned to monthly, then yearly, until I finally stopped. I send Mama a check every six months to pay the bills, but I can't bring myself to actually talk to them anymore.

Eyeing the half-empty bottle, I raise it back to my lips, finishing off the remaining contents, and grab another from the fridge, along with my bottle of Tito's Vodka in the pantry. Passing on the use of a glass, I take my drinks straight to my bedroom, since it's the only room in the house with furniture, and settle into my California King mattress, flipping the TV to Sports Center.

_Belikov does it again….._

_Is there anything he can't do…._

_The young closer is making a name for himself…._

You would think to hear the commentary, I would feel proud, joyful even, for accomplishing the goals I had set for myself all those years ago. I came from nothing, a broken family, living in a run-down home in a town no bigger than a dime. My father was a drunk, abusive and cruel toward my mother, and my mother worked endless nights at the hospital as a nurse to take care of four kids -five when my cousin moved in with us after his father kicked him out.

I can remember the countless times we only had bread to eat for dinner, or the many years of school wearing the same tattered clothes because we couldn't afford to get new ones. I used to go from house to house on our street fixing minor problems for people just to make a few Rubles to help Mama.

Now, I have made millions, drive a Porsche, and own a five million dollar house in Dallas. I have traveled the country, seen and done things that back home would never have been possible.

Yet, even with all of the material things, I have nothing to show for myself.

All of the money in the world can't eradicate the feeling of guilt suppressing my heart. I've tried, believe me, I have tried my damnedest to forget, to move past the person I was back then, and that only dug my grave deeper. Because, no amount of money, women, or alcohol will erase the thoughts of everything, and _everyone_, I left behind to make this dream a reality.

Tossing the remote beside me, I twist the cap on the Tito's and take three large gulps.

Always three -the first burns, the second soothes and the third washes away every fuck I have to give, allowing me to slip into the black abyss.

* * *

Author's Note:

This is the fastest turn around on stories I have ever done, but I simply couldn't wait!

Now that Bases Loaded is here, I am excited to do the giveaway on Facebook to go with it. There is no better way to celebrate this second chance romance, than by giving away '_That Second Chance'_ by Meghan Quinn. It is the BEST second chance romance I have read.

(and I am TOTALLY not being biased here)

**To enter: **

**Fav/Follow Bases Loaded. **

**Follow me on Facebook and comment on the release post for Bases Loaded. **

**(Be sure to include your screen name so I can announce the winner here as well.)**

**And review Chapter One. **

**Simple as that.**

**_(Note: I will only be able to ship the giveaway box inside the US, but if you are outside of the US you are still welcome to follow on Facebook for all updates/sneak peeks/and random shenanigans.)_**

Suit up, Y'all, it's game time.

All My Love,

Dream


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thank you for the faves/follows/reviews!**_

* * *

_**Chapter Two**_

* * *

"Wake up, Dimitri."

"Five more minutes, Roza," I mumble, pulling her soft body in tighter to my chest. I draw a deep breath, soaking in the smell of her.

_Wait, why does she smell like…._

Bringing my hand toward my face, I feel something...wet. Prying one eye open just a sliver, I lift up just enough to see the stain. "Damn it," I groan, rolling onto my back.

"At least you didn't choke on it," he chuckles, lifting his hands in a 'picture screen' fashion, "I can see the headlines now."

"Fuck you, Iv," driving the palm of my clean hand into my eyes, I scrub away the sleep to see my best friend and teammate, Ivan.

When I first came to America, everything was new and exciting. I wanted nothing more than to soak up the experience. _And soak it up I did._ In the form of bar hopping, summer parties, and a streaking incident I would rather not talk about ever again. But once school started that August, I stopped all outings and focused on my education and training. That's when I met, Ivan.

He was also from Russia, Moscow to be exact, and we had been paired together for the program. It was nice to have someone around that spoke my language and took an interest in joining the baseball team. We both tired out freshman year. I made it, he didn't, but we kept training together until he finally walked on in Sophomore year.

We made a promise to each other back then -_one of those stupid bromance type promises that you really have no intention of following through on_\- saying we would stick together, make it to the majors, and win the series. Once we reached our goals, we would go home, not permanently, but to visit our families who have stood by us from afar.

No doubt that is why he is here. Every year he comes by before he leaves for whatever vacation house he is going to for off-season; this year though, he is going to be flying back to Russia. And I don't know that I can hold up my end of the deal.

"You know I don't swing that way," he said a bit too sweetly.

"Last I checked, you are a switch hitter," I rose my brow, suppressing a smile at my pun.

"Only in the box, not in the sheets," he points a finger at me, his face turning serious "And don't you dare go spreading that rumor around either. The last thing I need is another clinger, _male or female_," he mumbles the last part under his breath.

"Celeste wasn't so bad," I chuckle, recalling his second season hookup gone wrong. That girl brought a whole new meaning to the word _'groupie'_. With a shake of my head, I add, "Well, if you closed your eyes."

He scoffs, ticking off his fingers, "Yeah, and change your number five times, not to mention the alarm codes, and, oh yeah, I had to move twice."

Tossing off my blankets, I stretch my arms over my head, my shoulder popping with the movement to elicit a groan, "Yeah, I guess she was pretty bad."

I roll to my side, swinging my legs off the bed and shaking my arms out, "But it could have been worse. At least she didn't try claiming she was pregnant with your kid to take your paycheck."

Celeste may have been a stage five clinger, but Tasha is fourth floor certified. _Psycho._

I met her earlier this season. We spent one night together during the season-opening weekend this year. We had swept the series, adding three tick marks to the 'W' column, and a group of us went out to a local tavern to celebrate. Ivan and I were shooting pool when Tasha and her friend Lisa - or Lissa, something like that - asked to join.

She said she was a fan, looked decent enough through the beer goggles, and was all too willing to take what I had to give. If I would have known that she was even freakier out of the bedroom, I would have taken her friend home instead.

Most women know the drill.

I buy you a drink, take you to my hotel room, fuck you like you've never been fucked before, and you leave.

Clean cut.

Dry.

No hassle.

No strings.

She obviously didn't know the drill.

First, she refused to leave. Strike one.

Then she followed my every move. Strike two.

Finally, she tarnished my reputation. Strike three.

She showed up at the bullpen during my warm-ups claiming she was pregnant with my baby and called me just about every name in the book. As you can imagine, Ash loved cleaning up that mess and my fan ratings plummeted. Later that same week, it was discovered she wasn't even pregnant _and _I wasn't her first victim.

Things improved a little after the news of her false accusations spread, but I am still recovering. Hopefully the Series win will help; otherwise, Ash is going to go off the deep end with interviews, promotions, and charity events to raise my ratings back up.

"True," he nods, bringing his hands together in a resounding clap and rubs them together, "Alright, take a shower cause you look like shit, and let's go get breakfast."

"What makes you think I want to go eat with you?" I raise a questioning brow, but my stomach betrays me, rumbling loud enough for him to hear.

"I'm going to take that as you answering your own question," he chuckles and turns to leave.

When I stand from the bed to pull my comforter and sheets off to put them in the wash, something falls to the floor, clanking loudly.

My bottle of Tito's from last night rolls across the floor, coming to a stop against Ivan's foot. Without a word, he picks it up, sighs deeply, and heads downstairs.

I know he will have something to say later, he always does.

Don't get me wrong, I love Ivan. He is the closest thing I've ever had to a brother, but he just doesn't know when enough is enough. However, he is right about one thing: I do look like shit.

Bracing both hands on the marble countertop, I take a long look at myself, noticing just how far I went last night. Not only is there evidence of my inability to hold my liquor on my face and chest, but the red lines through my eyes and dark circles underneath tells me I didn't get much sleep.

_What time is it anyway?_

It has to be early; Ivan said breakfast, not lunch, and I can faintly see the sun shining through the tinted seamless glass wall of the shower.

Powering up the IPad on the outside of the shower wall, I set it on carwash mode, turning on the rain shower head and the six jets along the walls. Setting the heat to one hundred and twenty degrees -_I like it hot-_ I let the water warm, while I finish gathering my sheets for the wash.

* * *

"Can you get your nasty ass off my counters?" I snap, smacking him on the back of the head as I round the island to open the fridge.

"Can you get some fucking chairs?" he snaps back, but still jumps down.

"You can stand," I said, pulling a beer from the fridge, I silently offer him one.

"Dude, it's seven AM," he bugs his eyes out.

"Your point?" I raise my brow.

Popping the top I down half the bottle, set it on the counter, and let out a long burp.

Ivan leans back against the island, crossing his arms over his chest, and pulls in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Dimitri…"

"Don't," I growl, cutting off whatever after-school special spiel _-say that five times fast- _he is about to throw at me, "Do not _Dimitri, _me."

"You were calling out for her again," he whispers, his chin dropping to his chest as if he was exposing a dirty secret.

Only it isn't his, it's mine, and I don't need him reminding me of my slip-ups, one of which was telling him about _her_ in the first place. Eyeing the bottle, I silently voice my annoyance at the liquid courage it provides when it isn't wanted or needed for that matter.

December of our freshman year -the night of my nineteenth birthday- Ivan took me to a club on Sixth St not far from campus. Both of us are tall and broad from the amounts of lifting we do, so the bouncers let us in without asking for IDs. Eight shots of Vodka and a couple of beers later, we are back in our dorm room and I am spilling my heart to my roommate.

It was the first birthday away from home, the first without waking up to a text from her. I wasn't in the best place to begin with, let alone after the amount of alcohol we consumed. The next morning, we both acted as if I hadn't spent the vast majority of my birthday crying like a lovesick teenager and moved on with life, never speaking of it again.

Until moments like this, when he wants to remind me of just how far I have fallen off the wagon.

"I say this because you're my friend," he paused, inhaling deeply, "you need help, man. Every year it's the same thing and it's getting worse."

_I know. _"No, it's not." I ground my teeth.

"Ever since Tasha.."

"Let me stop you right the fuck there," I snap, pointing a finger at him, I lower my voice into a growl, "we will not speak about her or the bullshit she caused."

I have a silent rule -one Ivan knows all too well- that her name is never to be spoken anywhere that I can hear it. She is to be referred to as _her, _or _she, _never _Tasha_. The sound of her name is like nails on the chalkboard- grating and annoying as fuck.

Raising his hands in surrender, "I'm sorry," he says earnestly, only to tilt his head and flip the script, "but tell me, D, how full was that bottle?"

"What does it matter?" I lean forward, resting my elbows on the counter and pinch the bridge of my nose.

"Because it's empty." He holds the bottle of Tito's upside down and waits for me to acknowledge him. When I don't answer, he sets it on the counter and taps me on the shoulder, "It was new, wasn't it?"

"It must have spilled," I shrug, "Look, I don't have a problem. I was just enjoying a celebratory drink, there is nothing wrong with that."

"Key letter there being _a_. This isn't _a _drink, Dimitri," the melancholy tone of his voice rang loud in my ears, "I'm serious."

"So am I," I slam my fist down on the counter, which knocks the brown bottle over, spilling it onto the floor. "Fuck," I hiss and grab a towel to wipe it up. Ivan reaches to take it from me and I put my hand up to stop him, "I've got it."

Rising back to my feet, I toss the towel along with the bottle in the sink and grip the edge like a vice to ground myself, "Ivan, I am asking nicely," I whisper, unable to speak any louder with how tight the truth squeezes my throat, "please, just leave it the fuck alone man."

"Fine," he nods. His keys jingle as he picks them up, flipping them around his finger, "I just don't want to see this happen to you," he whispers.

I bite my cheek hard enough to draw blood, chewing on his words like a well-cooked steak. Ivan is the only friend I have left here - by my own choices - but still, he is the only confident I have. If he turns his back on me too, or if I continue to push him away, I have no doubt that I will not come back from the black hole of self-loathing.

His steps echo on the hardwood floor, stopping off to my right where the garage door is. Clearing his throat, he says, "I'm heading home for break, maybe you should consider making the trip."

The latch on the door catches and I am alone once more.

I stare out the picture window above my sink that overlooks my backyard, enjoying the brief moment of peace I always find while watching the way the sky changes various shades of orange as the sun fully clears the horizon. It's soothing. Like that moment before a storm, when the wind dies down and everything goes still. I love those moments. It's the only time I feel peace in my chaotic life. Between games, practices, fan meet-and-greets, I never have much downtime during the season.

The off-season is the only real time I get slow down and relax. In the past, I would just stay here in Dallas and spend most nights out on the town, taking a different girl home every weekend, always hoping one of them might make me forget about _her_. None of them did, mainly for the fact that no matter what they looked like, I pictured Roza beneath me.

She was the one on my mind.

Every. Single. Time.

That won't be happening this year though. Not after the way it started. I haven't slept with anyone since the 'incident' and I don't plan too for a long while. The last thing I need is for the word to get out that I am back on the 'prowl' as one reporter stated.

A deep sigh passes my lips, my chin falling into my chest as I look at the empty bottle sitting in the sink.

_When did I get to this point?_

Thinking back, I can't remember when one drink turned into two, and then three, and finally the bottle. Drinking alone in an empty house that I had built for someone who would never live in it.

_Fuck, I don't even want to live in it._

Every empty room is a constant reminder of what I walked away from, thinking I was doing what was best for everyone when in reality, I was only looking out for myself.

I left because I was scared of falling into the predetermined life that staying would have led me too. A blue-collar, paycheck to paycheck, piece of shit job working day and night to put food on the table, missing all the little things like games and practices, or school plays -_just like Mama did_.

Or worse, I would have turned into my father.

Anger at the thought of becoming him surges through me followed closely by the realization that I am already halfway there. Picking up the bottle, I turn around, throwing it as hard as I possibly can against the stone wall that holds the fireplace.

My heart bounces around inside my chest, struggling to find a steady rhythm. Squeezing my eyes shut, I silently sing _'Regrets' _by Casey Donahew, a local Texas artist.

A few years back, I heard it on the radio and couldn't help but relate to the lyrics. He talks about how he left the one he loves, letting her walk away to be with someone else. Now his life feels empty and he regrets his choices, never telling her how much he truly cares. It kills me every time I hear it, but the heartache of regret overpowers the anger. I've been using it as my crutch, if you will, to pull me back from the dark waters when the red-eyed-monster tries to take over.

Drawing in a deep breath, I open my eyes to see a shattered bottle in an empty room. Maybe Ivan is right -_don't tell him I said that- _maybe I should leave for break. Get out of town -away from the fans, the lights, the constant _go, go, go_ that is my everyday.

Or maybe I should go home.

Grabbing the broom and dustpan from the pantry, I clean up my mess, speaking out loud to myself, "You said you were going home, Dimitri. This is not home."

This house is a shell, much like myself, which is probably why I never bothered to buy a couch or a dining table and chairs. My bedroom is the only room with furniture and that's only because sleeping on the floor isn't an option.

It serves one purpose, to hide me from the outside world and nothing else. It's not warm and welcoming. It's cold and bare. But it's the only place I have to call home anymore because Baia feels like another world.

Dragging a hand through my hair, my stomach rumbles reminding me that I still haven't eaten since before the game last night.

Heading back into the kitchen, I throw away the glass and pull out ingredients for an omelet. Scrambling four eggs, I add some chopped ham, mushrooms, and spinach, washing it down with a tall glass of orange juice.

While cleaning up, I think over Ivan's suggestion. Should I go home like I promised him and myself all those years ago that I would? Or should I stay here to focus on next season, my following, and my game?

Looking out into the backyard again, I take a deep breath willing the right choice to dawn on me. I miss my family, though it may not seem like I care about them, I do. I miss seeing my Mama in the kitchen, smiling and humming her favorite song. Or watching movies with my sisters on Friday night, throwing popcorn at each other, and laughing until the early morning hours.

I especially miss _her_.

But would they welcome me back?

Would they forgive the way I left, cutting them off without warning?

Would it even feel like home or would it feel like here?

Hollow. Quiet. Lonely.

My phone buzzing in the back pocket of my jeans draws my attention. Setting the plate I have been washing for five minutes down, I pull it out to see a text.

_**Ash: **_My office. One hour.

Looks like my choice has been made for me.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I failed to mention in Chapter One, but updates for this will continue on my normal schedule.**

**Thursdays and Sundays**

**As for the giveaway, Twitches1985 is the winner.**

**Please email me your mailing address.**

**All My Love,**

**Dream**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter Three**_

* * *

_**Dimitri: **_I swear on everything you love, if you told Ash, I am killing you.

_**Ivan: **_Told him what?

_**Ivan: **_That I found you in bed.

_**Ivan: **_Covered in your own vomit.

_**Ivan: **_With an empty bottle of vodka next to you.

_**Ivan: **_Nope. Didn't tell him a thing.

_**Dimitri: **_You're a dead man.

_**Ivan: **_I am only looking out for you, bro.

_**Ivan: **_You need help.

_**Ivan: **_And if you won't let me help you.

_**Ivan: **_Maybe your manager can.

_**Dimitri: **_It's not your place, Ivan.

_**Dimitri: **_You know how he is.

_**Dimitri: **_And thanks to you, I am about to be up shit creek without a paddle.

_**Ivan: **_I never understood that phrase.

_**Ivan: **_But I'm not sorry.

_**Ivan: **_At least I didn't tell Tanner.

_**Ivan: **_He would have benched you faster than you can throw a four-seam.

_**Dimitri: **_FUCK YOU, IVAN!

I jam the send button - as if it actually punctuates my anger through text - and click my phone locked, slipping it into the back pocket of my pants. Checking my reflection in the glass window of Ash's office, I run my hand through my hair to comb it, straighten my tie, and double check my shirt is still tucked tightly.

Even though the season is over, he would murder me on sight if I showed up in 'day' clothes to his office. I even shaved, which I normally don't do between October and February. I tend to embrace the off-season in the form of growing out my hair - both head and facial.

Buttoning my suit jacket, I rap my knuckles on his door and wait as the door swooshes open on an automatic slide, revealing an enraged Ash. His eyes matching the core of a flame as he looks up at me from his large mahogany desk.

Planting both hands firmly, he rises, but his voice drops to a growl, "Sit."

My eyes trail over his desk, taking in the mass clutter of papers, notebooks, and his laptop teetering on the corner, two seconds away from falling to the floor. Pushing it back, I nod to the mess, "What is all this?"

"A cluster fuck," he growls, "now sit down."

Unbuttoning my jacket, I take a seat in the vintage clawfoot leather chair across from him, crossing one leg over the other, "I thought I told you to take a vacation," I chuckle. My attempt at lightening the mood doesn't seem to please him.

"How can I possibly take a vacation when I have to worry about you strapping on a pair of cement shoes and jumping into the Gulf?" His voice climbs higher with each word until he is practically screaming at me.

His face is flamed red - matching his hair - jaw ticking, and the look in his eyes screams fury. I can count on one finger the number of times Ash has ever been this mad -the day Tasha made her accusations.

Thankfully, he saved his wrath until _after_ I closed out the game, but the waiting did nothing to lessen his rage -if anything, it intensified. It took months to clear the air completely, in which time, Ash was never in a good mood. But it wasn't like this. Not even close.

Resting my chin on my fist, I avert my gaze from him, staring out the floor to ceiling windows in his office, breathing in the view of the Dallas Skyline. It is always one to be admired, especially at night.

From my seat, I can see the Margaret Hunt Hill Bridge, a spot I used to frequent at night when I first moved here. Combined with the skyline that towers right behind it, it's a beautiful view to soak in. The main section loops over the actual bridge, and cable wires run in a criss-cross pattern from top to bottom. It's unique- much like the architecture back home- unlike the rest of the city which is nothing but towering block buildings and freeways.

"Look," he grinds his teeth, inhaling deeply through his nose, "I know you had a tough break at the beginning of the season, but if you don't make some changes soon, you will lose more than your fan base."

Shaking my head, I turn back to him and shrug, "I don't know what Iv…"

"Dimitri," he stops me with a silencing hand, "Ivan didn't tell me anything that I didn't already know."

He takes a seat, laces his hands together resting them on top of the papers, and meets my eyes again, "I can't claim to understand your...situation, but what I can say is if you don't stop the self-destructing actions, you will lose your career."

"That can't happen," I work my jaw back and forth, chewing on his declaration.

I can't lose this. I've already lost everything else, I can't lose my career too. I've worked too hard, given up so much to be here.

_It's all I have left. _

"I have already started looking into a way to rebuild your image, and I hired the best person I could think of to help you get back to where you were."

That grabs my attention and I sit forward, "I'm listening."

"We will start slow," he ticks off his fingers, "photo shoots, a charity event or two, maybe a set you up to assist in the Jr's. camp."

_Why do I feel like there is a but coming, _"But," _ah - there it is,_ "your fan base is only a drop in the bucket, you need to make some serious changes with your personal life if you want to keep playing for this ball club."

"Like what?" I struggle to not roll my eyes.

"Do I really need to answer that?" his brow arches in question, eyeing me with a knowing look.

"You can't tell me none of the other guys drink, or go out and enjoy themselves every now and again." I scoff, irritated by the blame he is pushing on me.

"No, I'm not saying that at all," he leans back, lifting his leg to rest his ankle on the opposite knee, his hands now folded in his lap, "but most don't put down an entire fifth of Vodka in one night, or push away the only real friend they have."

I bite my tongue until it bleeds because I have no comeback. He is right - completely right - and I don't dare admit it.

Holding his stare, I shift in my seat, "So, what is your grand plan?"

"What is the one thing fans love to see from their favorite players?" his brow lifts, a smirk pulling his lip up with it.

I know the answer to his question, but I refuse to accept that he is thinking what I think he is thinking. He knows my story, knows everything about where I came from, my family I haven't spoken to in a decade, and the girl I left behind.

Now he wants to suggest…

"I can see the wheels spinning," he makes a turning motion with his hands.

"You can't be serious?" I scoff, pushing myself back in my chair, I stare at him wide-eyed.

"But I am," he nods with a shit-eating grin. "And you know that I am right."

"What do you expect me to do, call them all and beg them to dig me out from the hole I have buried myself in?"

"No need," the shit-eating grin is permanently etched on his face at this point. "I already did."

"Excuse me," my eyes are on the floor, rolling around on the marble tiles, "Who in the fuck gave you permission to call my family?"

The grin vanishes and a cold stare takes its place, "You did," his answer laced with irritation. "The day you hired me as your manager, I was given full access to do whatever needed to keep your career in tip-top shape."

"That doesn't mean you call _them_," standing abruptly, I loosen my tie and step toward the floor to ceiling windows. The sky is bright and clear - like most autumn days here - and provides a feeling of freedom as the walls around me close in.

Pressing my forehead against the cool glass, I look down over the city. Cars fly by on the freeway, people fill the downtown streets - walking between the buildings that tower the area - going about their days as normal. While I fight the biggest internal battle of my entire life.

My family is coming to America to bail me out and the first thought that comes to mind isn't, '_how have they been' _or even, '_holy fuck I get to see my Mama', _it's '_is she coming too?' _

"Who did you call?" I whisper, my breath fogging against the window. _I need to know exactly how screwed I am, _I add silently in my head.

"I only spoke to your mother, but I left the invitation open for all those who wanted to come."

I turn around to see his relaxed expression - and it pisses me off more, "That doesn't really answer my question," the deep growl of my voice makes him smirk, and I want to strangle him, "who all is coming here?"

His smirk raises into a full smile, one that reaches his ears and flips my world on its head, "The _entire _family. Your mother, sisters, their children, and your cousin."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. He didn't say _she _was coming, so maybe it won't be so bad. I know they will be pissed, they have every reason to be, but at least I won't have to see _her._

_But you want too. Don't you, Dimitri? _

I grind my teeth at the voice in my head because the fucker is right. I want to see her. I want to hold her in my arms again and spend the night wrapped in nothing but my satin sheets. I want the night before I left back. _God, I miss her._ I have no right too and I certainly don't deserve her help now, but I can't help this pulling sensation in my chest begging - gnawing at the bit - to know how she is doing, where she is now, and how she has been since I left.

"Dimitri," Ash's cool tone pulls me from the static television of my thoughts, "this is going to be a good thing. Both for the ratings and for _you_."

"I just haven't seen them in so long," my voice is rough as I try not to show how much this is really affecting me. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I ask the next question I don't want to know the answer too, "Where are you planning on housing them?"

"Well, I was thinking of having them live with you, but I can certainly find another arraignment if needed. We have a few weeks before they arrive."

I scrub my hands over my face, pulling in a deep breath, "No, that's fine, I have six other bedrooms." I take back to my seat, counting off my family members as to try and figure out how to accommodate everyone, only to realize two things; I don't know how many nephews or nieces I have now and Mase failed to mention one particular person.

"What about my Babushka?" I whisper, terrified of what he might say. She wasn't in the best health when I left, and I can only imagine how bad it could have gotten over the years.

He blinks a few times and shakes his head, busying himself with the papers on his desk, "Your mother didn't mention she would be coming along," he says simply, not meeting my eyes.

"Ash," his gaze snaps to mine at the stern tone. He doesn't speak - he doesn't have too - I can see it in his eyes. Babushka isn't coming_._

This is _not_ what I had in mind for today. I rest my elbows on spread knees, threading my fingers through my hair. My eyes fall closed, heavy from the weight of information he just laid on me, not to mention the amount of alcohol I ingested last night.

"This is all my fault," my throat grows tighter with each word, burning with the acknowledgment that I am to blame. I may not be physically responsible for whatever happened to take her from the world, but I sure as hell am to blame for not being there to say goodbye. No one else can claim that burden, it's mine alone to bear.

"Not all of it," Ash reassures, "but yes, some of it. I think to have your family around, reconnecting with your loved ones, will help you pull out of this slump you have dug yourself into."

I nod, unable to speak any more at this moment. I can't recall the last time I actually cried. I did frequently when I first came overseas, but after my freshman year, I adjusted to my new way of life. There wasn't much to cry about - if anything at all - after I accepted that this is just the way things had to be in the end. And now guilt slams into me as I realize it didn't. I didn't have to cut my heart out of my chest to build the life I dreamed of, I chose too, and that makes all the fucking difference. I chose this route, I have to own up to it, and fuck if it doesn't gut me like a fish to know I lost out on the last years of my Babushka's life because of one selfish action.

And there is nothing I can do to fix it.

"Dimitri," Ash breaks the silence, kneeling in front of me now, he speaks as if he heard my internal rant, "I am sorry. I know this is a lot to take in and you haven't had the best year already, but it is all the more reason to reconnect with your family. Fix the issues you have within yourself before you lose what you have left."

There is no doubt in my mind that it would work for my career, but would they do it? Would they be willing to help me when I have done nothing to earn it? Yeah, I send a check home every six months to pay the bills, but other than that, I have no contact with them.

More importantly, will this fix the issues within my own heart and mind or will it only cause more distress?

I am not the type of man to push my burdens onto others. I much prefer to deal with everything in my own time and as long as I can remember, I have always handled my emotions and thoughts by myself. Well, and with Roza. She was the only person I ever opened up to about my feelings. She didn't leave me much of a choice. No matter how hard I tried to hide things from her, she always saw right through me. We had a way of doing that with each other, speaking without words. She could always tell what I was thinking or feeling, and I was the same with her.

But I don't have her anymore. I gave her up to chase a dream that has made me millions of dollars and cost me everything else.

"I…" I'm cut off by a soft _tap-tap-tap _against the glass door.

"Shit," Ash mutters, "I should have texted her and told her we would meet later."

"Who?" I say, wiping my face clear of the salty trails.

He grips the back of his neck, looking toward the door with sorrow-filled eyes, "Your new Publicist."

_Why do I have a feeling this is about to make my day even worse?_

The door swooshes open, bringing in a slight draft from the hall, the scent of lavender and vanilla wraps around me in a cold wet blanket, waking _all _of my senses. The hair on the back of my neck rises on end, my skin tingling with electricity that only one person has ever made me feel. I don't have to look or even hear the person speak to know who it is, but in the back of my mind, I pray to be wrong.

_Please be a man that loves lavender lotion and vanilla scented shampoo. _

"Mase!"

Nope - not wrong - definitely not a man.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thank you for the faves/follows/reviews! I really love hearing your thoughts, makes for easy writing when I know y'all are loving it. **_

_**And just to advise everyone again, UPDATES will be on THURSDAY/SUNDAY EVENINGS.**_

* * *

_**Chapter Four**_

* * *

Everyone has a trigger sight, sound, or taste that reminds them of younger years.

For some, it's the sound of airplanes flying overhead, signaling their parents returning home from war. For others, it's the smell of flowers from all the summers spent with Grandparents helping in the garden. Or maybe the taste of your favorite childhood food_. _

For me, it's the scent of her lavender skin, the sound of her laugh, and the taste of her lips. _It's simply her. _

"Hey, Rosie," Ash groans and I imagine him lifting her up, spinning her around. "How have you been? How was the flight?"

"Absolutely wonderful," she beams back causing me to cringe.

_Wonderful? _Absolutely _wonderful? _I shouldn't be hurt by that, after all, it's what I hoped for her - prayed for even. Yet, hearing the words straight from her lips puts my heart in the food processor, chopping it into tiny little bite-sized pieces.

Ash whispers something to her, but I can only make out his last word, '_Xander'._ I resist the urge to look at them, my jaw ticking as his question raises my own, _who the fuck is, Xander?_

"He is great," she answers simply and a little tight-lipped.

_Again, who the fuck is, Xander? _

And why did she sound reluctant to answer him? Does she not feel comfortable talking about another man in front of me? Granted, she hasn't even addressed me yet, so maybe she doesn't notice me sitting here. But she has to feel what I feel -this pulsing current flowing between our bodies, matching the rate of my heartbeat.

I can no longer hide my gaze. I need to see her, confirm the trick my mind is playing. Tentatively, I pry one eye open, tilting my head just enough to catch a glimpse of long brown - almost black - hair flowing in rich waves down her back, brushing the top of her ass. And that ass._ Fuck. _

I shift in my seat, my dick rubbing roughly against the zipper of my trousers. _Control yourself, Dimitri, for fuck sake. _Not five minutes ago I was being ripped to shreds emotionally with the news of Babushka, only to flip a one-eighty the second her scent filtered through my nose. How does she still do this to me? How can she cause my mind and body to lose all sense of self by simply being in the same room?

_I told you our relationship was dangerous. _When she is around I can't help the way my body reacts to her. She doesn't even have to speak to make my blood rush to my southern regions. No, she just has to stand there, looking sexy as fuck in those tight distressed blue jeans and black tank top showing far too much tempting skin, smelling like god damn heaven. My perversion doesn't stop there either; I can't help but roam my eyes over her face, admiring her high cheekbones and luscious heart-shaped lips, full and shining with a hint of her favorite cherry lip gloss. I lick mine in yearning, needing to feel her mouth on mine, to taste her, devour her, _take her_.

"Fuck," I grind my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut. I _have _to stop. I have to will myself not to eye-fuck her. She isn't some one-night stand I'm picking out from across the bar, she's Rose - _My Roza - _and my new publicist. I can not let myself look at her like I used too. Even if back then it was more with love than lust, I can't let either happen now - no matter how much I want too.

"What was that, Belikov," Ash barks.

_I should have begged you to stay, never let you walk away. _

_I should have told you my heart has always been yours. _

I repeat the lyrics, over and over, but it doesn't work. I'm not angry, though I should be since Ash knows about my relationship with Rose.

Want to know the kicker?

I wasn't the one who told him, she was - because he is her best friend.

_Yeah, talk about a small freaking world._

Rose met Ash years ago_ -long story and it's not mine to tell_\- but she has known him longer than she has known me. When I was drafted, I got a call from him asking if I needed a manager. I was new to the game, still new to Texas really, so I took him up on the offer. It wasn't until the third season that I figured out, Ash, was Rose's Mason. She had only mentioned him a handful of times in the years we were together, so I didn't make the connection right away.

When I finally pieced together the puzzle, the picture it formed was clarifying. She asked him to represent me. It was the only explanation as to why he would pick up a rookie client. Especially considering he was letting players go left and right in his first year.

And now, he is throwing her in my face - but still, I'm not angry - no I am something far worse. _Overwhelmed. _Overwhelmed with the three L's - longing, loathing - _self-loathing to be clear -_ and red hot fucking lust. Her scent is like my own personal drug, flowing through my nose and seeping into my flesh, coursing through my veins to give me the greatest high of my life. And I can't take it - _my heart can't take it - _it slams, bangs, everything you can think of to describe hard-hitting, it's doing. I can't breathe. I can't open my eyes. And I can't get my dick to realize now is not the time for him to play peek-a-boo.

"Hello, Dimitri," her velvet voice caresses my ears and there is not a hint of anger in it.

Withdrawing the knife lodged in my chest, I shove it back in just to add to my own torture; there are only two reasons I can think of that she wouldn't want to castrate me and throw my balls into the damn Colorado River. One; she moved on, finding love with someone else and is thankful that I left. Or two; she didn't love me as I loved her. And if I am being frank, I don't like either of those fucking options. Not that I have anyone but myself to blame for it though, I left her not the other way around. Still, I would much rather her simply hate me than to have never loved me in the first place; not when I still love her as much now as I did then. If it's option one, she moved on and is happy, I would gladly let her go because she deserves nothing less. I'd regret it for the rest of my life, but...

_You know regrets are the hardest lessons learned._

_Fuck you, Casey Donahue. _My saving grace is now the devil's advocate, driving the stake deeper and deeper into the fleshy muscle contained in my chest. And for the life of me, I can't stop the lyrics from rolling through my mind.

_The hardest part of waking up is knowing I'm alone. _

"Belikov," Ash growls, toeing my shin with the tip of his Oxford dress shoe, "you are being spoken to."

Standing abruptly, my chair scraps against the floor and falls backward, "Sorry," I mumble and high tail it out of the office, never once looking her in the eye. The tempting chocolate would be my downfall. If I caught the slightest glimpse, I would melt on the spot, turning into a puddle of liquid emotions.

I take the stairs instead of waiting on the elevator, just in case he decided to come after me. Not the smartest move considering we are on the twentieth floor. Yet, the repetitive _thud-thud-thud _of my boots against the steel stairs is doing wonders for my racing heart. I wind, around and around, until I reach the bottom, bursting through the door and somersaulting onto the dirty streets of downtown Dallas. I lie there for a moment, flat on my back, shielding my eyes from the early-morning sun and catch my breath.

She's here.

Standing in Ash's office.

And is my new PR.

_Fuck. My. Life. _

You know how people say, you should never wonder, '_how can this day get any worse,'_ because the cosmic powers of the universe will fuck your whole world up just to prove a point that it can always be worse. Well, they're right. I feel like _Jim Carey_ in _Bruce Almighty- _taking a beating after beating of bad news- _and it is not at all b-e-a-u-tiful._ All I need now is _Morgan Freeman's _voice to sound off around me to narrate my shortcomings for the world.

"Hey," a gruff voice sounds from above me - _sadly not Freeman's - _accompanied by a soft tap to my ribs, "are you alive?"

Lifting my hand, I see an older man, more than likely a streetwalker -_homeless person_\- judging by the dirt soiled rags that cover his lanky frame. He pushes his black frame taped glasses up his nose, an empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, and reaches out with the other to help me.

I roll to my side and rise back to my feet, dusting my hands off on my navy blue trousers, leaving white streaks across my thighs, "Yeah, I'm good. Thanks."

Fishing in my pocket I pull out my wallet. Flipping through the bills, I find a ten and hold it out to the man, "This is for another bottle," I flip through a few more, "and this is for something to eat," I hand him another five.

"Thank you," he gives me a rotten tooth smile.

"Thanks for checking on me," I smile back and dip my head, "have a nice day."

Don't judge me for supplying him with his vice. I will say, I have met many of his kind living here and most will sit on a street corner - begging for spare change or stand on the road with an '_I'm hungry, Please Help' _sign that we all know they won't be buying food with the three dollars you just gave them. He didn't ask for the money, he was simply lending a hand - for that - I thank him the only way I truly can. Paying it forward. Hopefully, it will pay me back in the long run. Maybe the universe will show mercy on me at some point.

He continues down the street, pulling open the door to the corner liquor store. I can't judge him, I will be stopping by one later too. Tucking my wallet back in my pocket, I trade it for my keys. Clicking the remote start, I walk two blocks to where I left _Rebel_ parked. Climbing behind the wheel of the V8 beauty, I turn the shifter knob and head into town - smiling as I see the man walk into _Whataburger. __Best burgers on the planet - no lie_.

Having done my good deed of the day, I go straight to _Rooms to Go._ If I am going up shit creek without a paddle I might as well embrace the tide. And buying four king-sized beds and four twins _-hoping it's enough for the kids-_ six dressers, twelve nightstands, two large couches, a small sectional for the pool house, a dining table set for eight,_ because seven is just odd_, and chairs for the island are the place to start.

"We have everything in stock, so I can set the delivery for as soon as tomorrow." The sales associate taps away on the computer, popping her gum while plugging in all of my information.

"Tomorrow is perfect," I nod,_ the sooner the better_.

"Will you need our set up service as well," she asks with a not so subtle once over of my body. Blowing a huge bubble, she pops it and moans softly, dragging her eyes back up to meet mine.

"Yes, that would be great," I bite out, feeling a bit violated.

"Alright, you're all set." Pulling the invoice off the printer, she writes her name and number on the top corner, "if you need _anything_ don't hesitate to give me a call."

"I'm good," I pull my lips tight, forcing a smile, "thanks."

Climbing back in my truck, I connect my phone and hit the autodial for Ivan. The line rings continuously, so I end the call not waiting for his voicemail to pick up. Crossing my forearms over the steering wheel, I rest my head in the triangle of my arms, taking a moment to just _breathe. _

I spent two hours in the store picking out everything I needed to furnish the house for my family, and there wasn't a second of it that she didn't cross my mind.

What has she been up to over the years?

Did she move to America or did she fly over for me?

Has she been in contact with Mason this whole time? Or just recently?

And why did she choose to pursue marketing? She was supposed to take over her father's business in Turkey. What happened to make her change her career?

And who the fuck is, Xander?

_And why do I keep coming back to that one?_

A million other questions bounced around inside my brain, none of which I have an answer too, nor do I believe I will ever get one. She didn't seem too eager to be in my presence, despite her sweet as Texas tea voice or the static sizzling around us.

Pulling out my phone, I tap out a message to Ash, needing to know where to go from here and apologize for running out on our meeting.

_**Dimitri: **_I apologize for leaving that way, but in all seriousness, Ash, what the hell are you thinking?

_**Ash: **_This is for the best, Dimitri. Trust me, I know of your history, but I couldn't think of anyone better to help you get back on your feet.

_**Ash: **_She is both willing to help your career and your emotional state.

My emotional state?

What in the hell does that even mean?

Surely she doesn't care about me that way, not after what I did -both to her and the reason she is here, to begin with.

_**Dimitri: **_How much did you tell her?

_**Ash: **_Everything that was perinate to rebuilding your image.

_**Dimitri: **_So….

_**Dimitri: **_Everything.

_**Dimitri: **_You told her everything?

_**Ash: **_Yes.

_**Dimitri: **_The drinking?

_**Ash: **_Yes.

_**Dimitri: **_The women?

_**Ash: **_Yes.

_**Dimitri: **_The house?

_**Ash: **_Yes.

_**Dimitri: **_Seriously, Ash!

_**Dimitri: **_Did you spare any details?

_**Ash: **_Yes.

I watch the three little dots, anxiously waiting for his response. They disappear and reappear only to disappear again. My fuse is growing short, and I am two seconds…

_**Ash: **_I didn't tell her that you're still in love with her.

_Goddamnit, Ivan. _Did he have to tell him freaking everything? When did my personal life become everyone's business?

Shaking my head, I grind my teeth, accepting the fact that my life is no longer my own. Hell, in reality, it hasn't been mine in a long time. I lost that right the day I became a paid athlete. From the very first day, I relinquished control to my coaches, managers, and even the fans. Tasha was just the straw that broke the camel's back.

I continue texting him for a while, and the more we talk, the more I keep myself busy. He filled me in on what I would have learned had I not run from his office. While Mama and the others wouldn't be arriving for two weeks, he offered Rose a place to stay with me as well.

Yeah,_ he offered_.

But more surprisingly, she agreed.

Now, I am not naive enough to think that her willingness to stay here is because she wants to be near me. _Hopeful as fuck, but not naive._ I am certain it has more to do with the fact that having another human around will help me prepare for when the others arrive. Not to mention the cost and inconvenience of living in a hotel for months would be pretty high.

It's not an issue of having the room for her, but rather the fact that she is going to be sharing a roof with me again_ -in the house I had built with her in mind._

One late night - about a month or so before I left -I asked her to describe her dream home.

"_If money was no issue, what would you want, Roza? Dream big." _

She tapped her chin in an adorable, deep thought kind of way, _"Hmm...it would have to be two stories," _she said, "_that is a given. And a pool - we have to have a pool." _My heart skipped a beat when she said '_we' _as if she couldn't picture it as just her home, but ours. "_Plenty of bedrooms for our family to visit and a _really_ big living room, so we can all watch movies together but not have to sit in each other's lap. A big, state of the art kitchen for you and Mama, and a _huge_ shower," _she added that last one with her signature man-eater smile - _gets me every time_.

And I did it all. Every single thing she wanted and a few things for myself.

Will she notice?

If she does, will she be flattered or pissed off beyond the heavens?

I am betting more toward the latter.

Processing my rabbit-trail of thoughts, I decided to extend an olive branch, considering she tried and I brushed it off without acknowledgment - which I can't really be blamed for - I kind of had _a lot_ of things dropped on me today and my plate was overflowing to the point I couldn't respond.

Getting her hotel information from Ash was a feat in its own, but figuring out what to send her took far more brain power than I would like to admit. I passed the ideas of fruit and muffin baskets because for one, who really eats those and two it shows no thought, no personal input. Food baskets are the _I-don't-care-enough-to-come-up-with-something-better_, gifts that you give your assistants once a season to pretend you care, but you really don't give two fucks about.

I make one last stop and send her something to simply say _'I am sorry'_. It won't fix everything _-if anything at all-_ but it's a start. Right now, it's the best I can do. I am in way over my head here, both my career and my life in general. I have made mistakes. Done things I can never take back. But if the last ten years _-hell, the last twenty-eight of my life-_ has taught me anything, it's you have to fight for what you want.

_I just didn't fight for the right reasons._

I should have fought harder to keep in contact with my mother and sisters - especially Babushka, but I can't undo the damage there. I made that bed a long time ago and have to accept it. And I should have fought harder to make things work with Rose. I should have talked to her, include her in my dreams and plans, instead of calling the shots for both of us.

I can't go back and change the past, but it doesn't mean I can't start over - right here - right now and change my future. Well, that is, if I still have a chance, for all I the Xander guy they mentioned could be her boyfriend, _or worse,_ husband.

_Fucking hell. _


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter Five**_

_**Rose**_

* * *

_**Two Weeks Earlier…**_

"That's the last of it," I dust my hands and park them on my hips, surveying my work.

The timber wood floors of my childhood - well, teenage would be more accurate - home are bare of furniture and family mementos. Boxes are stacked high against the wall; one for donation -which isn't much because I couldn't bear to part with most of it- and one to be shipped to my best friends home in America.

I walk the halls, up and down the stairs, and into every room, soaking in the smell of the aged wood, the feel of the walls, and every memory that comes with it. When I was eleven, sliding down the banister, crash landing at the bottom -successfully breaking my arm. Or when I was fourteen, trying to make hot chocolate in the microwave, almost blowing the house up. _Note:_ don't put metal in the microwave, lesson learned. And when I was sixteen, facing a whole new world of challenges that I still don't know how I managed to survive.

Sixteen years I spent in this house - my home - and it's time to say goodbye. I'm not ready. I can't even pretend that I am gung-ho for this new adventure. Truth be told, I am terrified. But his words won't stop playing in my head like a scratched up CD.

"What's wrong, _doch'_," Olena Belikova lays a hand on my arm, her tone soft as she refers to me as her daughter, as she has done for as long as I can remember.

When Baba and I first moved here, Olena quickly took me in like another daughter. My mother, back then and still to this day, never cared for me. I was the unexpected - unwanted - burden to her. She left when I was four, moving to America with her new husband, Eric and his two children.

I haven't spoken to her since I was a kid forced to spend time with her during the summer per the court order. If it wasn't for Mason those summers would have been unbearable. We met during my first visit -his family sharing the other half of the duplex home my mother lived in. We used to sit out back on either side of our fences and talk or play games, anything really that kept us out of our respective homes.

He became my best friend and the only reason I looked forward to visiting Texas every year. When I was twelve, I had the choice to keep going or stay with my Baba. Needless to say, I haven't seen any of them since - though I do still keep in contact with Mason.

Baba tried -the best he could- to raise me by himself but he had to travel a lot for work, leaving me with a Nanny for the majority of my childhood years. When I was ten, he decided to move us here to Baia and settle down. Business was good and there wasn't much he personally had to do anymore to keep things running in proper order.

I met the Belikovs' the day we moved into the neighborhood. Viktoria -the youngest of four- and I became best friends quickly, sharing everything together. I spent more time in her home during my teens than my own. And Vika was only _part _of the reason.

Not only did I love the feeling of having a family when I was there, but I may or may not have had an insane crush on her older brother, Dimitri. Yes, this is one of those _I-fell-in-love-with-my-best-friends-brother _tales. And like most, it doesn't end with a happily ever after. I no longer believe in fairy tale endings, but rather _Nicholas Sparks Novel _endings. You find true love, go through hell and high water to be together, and the main character dies. The End.

Okay- so he didn't die, but he may as well have. We haven't seen or heard from him in over ten years. I only know he is alive and well -for the most part- because of Mason, the aforementioned best friend in Texas, who is also Dimitri's Agent. He called me a few months ago to let me know the new developments in Dimitri's career. In the beginning, those calls were full of mind-blowing accomplishments that a player his age shouldn't make. I mean, closing out three innings with nothing but strikeouts is a pretty impressive feat. However, over the years, I could see the pattern of destruction starting.

Based on what Mase has told me, at the end of every season, Dimitri cuts himself off from everyone. Over the years, it's gotten worse and is now to the point where he is drinking more at home, going out less -which may or may not necessarily be a bad thing- and not speaking to anyone during or after the season. Despite their series win this year, his stats are the lowest they have ever been and his mental health is plummeting right there with them. He is on _Bikini Bottom _level of low right now, hiding out under the rock with Patrick. Mason is deeply concerned that he may not resurface this time.

He may have done some really shitty things, but that is no way for a person to live. Especially considering his entire family would give anything to have him back, even for just a little while. Mama puts on a brave face, but she misses him like a limb. And the girls, well, let's just say that life wasn't easy without their brother around to protect them. They hold their own grudges - for different reasons - but they miss him, too.

And I can't lie.

So do I.

Don't get me wrong -I was pissed, heartbroken, and depressed_ for months _after he left. I didn't want to leave the house or deal with anything. I just wanted to wallow in my own self-pity. Every time he called, I ignored it, unable to bring myself to a point that I could hear his voice. I didn't want to know how happy he was in America, or even that he missed me, because he made his choices.

Over time I learned to let go of most of my anger toward him and move on with my life. It wasn't easy, by any means, but I did it. I had more important things to take care of, so Dimitri took a backseat while I handled the new challenges. Now, he is riding shotgun. And I can't lie and say that I am not scared shitless of how this drive is going to go.

"Roza," Olena's gentle tone pulls my attention back to her.

"I don't know that I can do this, Mama," I fidget with the hem of my shirt, my throat squeezing tight as I ask, "how am I supposed to handle seeing him again?"

"In the best way you can, dear," wrapping her arms around my shoulders, I rest my head on her shoulder, as she runs her hand over my hair, "We won't be far behind you. This is going to be good for all of us. We all need to move on, there are too many sorrowful memories here. It's time for a change."

I know she is right, this house and her's hold so many dark memories, but they also hold a million amazing ones. Doesn't the good outweigh the bad? I found love, lost it, and found it again right here. Doesn't that mean more than a handful of moments of pain these walls have witnessed?

"They would be proud of you, you know that right," she squeezes me a little tighter, her voice rough with tears.

I nod, unable to speak with my own emotions crushing my throat. They would be - and that is all that is pushing me forward. I have a job lined up in Texas, a best friend at the ready to help me find my way, and the Belikov's. It's not going to be easy, it's not going to be fun, but it's going to be worth it.

_Or at least I pray it will be._

* * *

_**Present Day…. **_

"Well, that honestly went better than I expected," Mason chuckles, and I have to agree.

Just standing in the hall, I felt the static buzz that raised the hairs on my arms, alerting me to his presence. And when the door opened, I knew he felt me too. His spine snapped, though the movement was so subtle I doubt Mase caught it. And the way he breathed in a little deeper - as if my scent was the drug he had been deprived of for so long - left my stomach swarming with butterflies.

I tried to ignore the sensation, putting my focus on Mase. I wasn't doing half bad job until he growled. The deep rumble through his chest flushed my body with heat, causing my knees to wobble and my heart to slam against the towering walls around it. I couldn't help myself at that point. I had to see him fully. Drink in the small moment of seeing him face to face for the first time in so long.

His shoulder length hair I loved so much is now cut short, but still long enough to run your fingers through and grab a handful, giving him a sexy mess look that made my mouth water. Time was evident on his face, marked by the tiny crow's feet growing in the corner of his eye and the worry lines etched on his forehead, but he is still as handsome, maybe even more so now that he has lost his babyface. His jaw is more defined, coated with a light stubble telling me he rushed while shaving this morning and didn't catch it all. But I think what has me completely entranced, so absorbed in the man he grew into is the way his suit jacket stretched across his back, straining to accommodate the width of his broad shoulders.

Dimitri has never been 'small', in any form of the word, but this man is massive on multiple levels. If only I could take that jacket off of him and unbutton the crisp white button down, I would be able to see exactly how toned he has gotten. But, I couldn't do that, _can't_ do that, so I will settle for my imagination - which is not a disappointment in the slightest.

Being the bigger person, I addressed him first, hoping to gauge his feelings. I kept my tone soft, letting him know I am not here to fight him, but that just seemed to upset him more. _And only a small part of me took immense satisfaction at that. _Part of me hopes that this is pure torture for him because he deserves to suffer as I did. But the other part, the part that doesn't want to see him sink as I had, wants to help him, lift him until he is back to the man he used to be. The man who went out of his way to help his Mama and sisters. The man who held me when I cried, kissing away the tears with promises of a better tomorrow.

"So, really, Rosie, how have you been?" Mase takes my hand, his voice sincere.

I give a half shrug, unable to lie to him now that we are alone, "I have been managing, just taking it one day at a time."

"That's all you can really do," he gives a reassuring squeeze and returns to his desk. Taking a seat in the high back leather chair with his monogram logo, he folds his hands in his lap, "Did you decide on where you want to stay, the pool house is still open," he offers with a raised brow.

I lean against the desk beside him, resting my hands on my thighs, playing with the frayed fabric of my jeans just above my knee, "I wouldn't want to impose on you and Eddie anymore than I already am."

"Don't worry about that," waving a hand he shucks off my concern, "we haven't used that half of the garage in years."

I nod, pulling on one of the loose strings, "Still, I feel like it's already too much. I mean, my whole house is in your garage, Mase. Besides, I think it would be best for all of us to be together with him at first."

"How is the house hunting coming along?"

"It's coming," sighing, I remind myself of another thing to add to my to-do list, "finding a modestly priced house in Dallas isn't very easy," I chuckle.

"That is not a lie," he joins me, "and Dimitri has plenty of room at his house - who knows - maybe this whole thing will bring you two back together in more than just distance," he wiggles his eyebrows, a glint of hope in his eyes.

"Don't get your hopes up, Duckie." I poke his shoulder, calling him by his childhood nickname- he had a weird obsession with ducks when he was a kid. "I have no interest in re-kindling that fire."

_Liar. _

Okay- maybe just a little, but it's not going to happen. Dimitri and I are in two very different leagues now -plus, with all of the adjustments I am having to make right now, finding love with the one who took it away isn't on the top of my list of priorities. Or the middle. It's at the bottom. Right next to Dimitri and Patrick.

"Girl, don't try and play me," he pokes me back in the stomach, "you are telling me that you think you can be alone with him. In his house. For two weeks before his family gets here and _not_ fuck him."

"My will-power is strong," I say in my best Jedi voice.

"Ha, okay, keep telling yourself that, Rosie," he says with a roll of his eyes.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I huff, "I will, thank you very much!"

"Oh, lord, this should be interesting," he slaps his thigh bending over with laughter.

_That's for damn sure,_ I agree silently in my head. It is going to be excruciating to be around him, not only because time has only made him better looking, making me want to climb him like a damn tree -_it's been a long while since I have seen any action, if you can't tell-_ but rather all of the memories that will come flowing like a river once we start talking.

I really need to find a place soon or we will be back to the beginning - playing house and sneaking around to steal a kiss when the others aren't looking. And that can't happen. I won't let it happen. I have to stay strong for more than just myself.

Reeling in his fit of giggles, Mase lays his hand on my arm, "Alright, now that we got that out of the way, I have to ask, what are you going to do about Xander?"

_Note to self: _add Xander to my list of things to figure out. Filling my lungs, I breathe out with a deep sigh, "I have no idea."

"You are going to tell him," his lifts one brow, "right?"

"At some point," I lift one shoulder and push off his desk to face him fully, "and don't you dare go behind my back and tell him."

"Really, Rose, you think I would do that," the pain in his voice stabs me in the gut.

"No, but I know he heard you ask about him, so if he asks you-you can _not_ tell him." I doubt Mase caught the way Dimitri flinched when he asked about Xander. I have no doubt he is working it over in his mind as we speak. "I will tell him when I am ready, I promise."

"You think it's a good idea to wait?"

"I don't know," I drop my head focusing on cleaning the non-existent dirt from under my fingernails, "but right now, it's the only one I have."

He nods, but I can tell he doesn't fully agree, "Well, I'll be here for you when the time comes."

"Thank you," I force a smile on my face and rub my hands together, "So, what's the game plan? Any ideas on where you want to start with him?"

Ruffling through a stack of papers, he hands me an itinerary for upcoming publicity events to choose from, "Photo ops are a must," I nod, "and this one," laying the page on his desk I point to the first one to catch my eye, "this would be perfect."

"Do you think he would do it?" he says skeptically, "I mean, he doesn't really have a choice, but how much coaxing do you think it will take."

"Let me handle that," I flash my man-eater smile, the one Dimitri could _never _resist.

Tapping the screen of my apple watch, I check the time and do mental math to figure out what time it is back home. It's late - about eleven PM - but Olena should still be awake. I told her I would call once I landed in Texas, but with the flight delays in California, I had to rush here as soon as I claimed my bags to make our meeting time.

"Can I take this with me? I should get to the hotel and call Olena."

"Of course," he rises from his seat, walking me to the door, "I'm really glad you're here, Rose. I truly believe this is going to be good for all of us," he pulls me into a tight hug, placing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

"Me too," I mumble into his chest, squeezing him a little tighter. Dimitri isn't the only one going through a rough time, we just choose to go about it in a better way. "I love you, Mase, I'll call you in the morning."

"Love you, too, Rosie, get some rest." With one last kiss to my hair, he lets me go.

I pause in the doorway, gripping the steel frame and call back over my shoulder, "Oh, and tell Eddie I said hi. Maybe we can have dinner once I get settled."

"Oh, he would love that, he has been dying to try some new Italian dish."

"I love Italian, it's a date."


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter Six**_

_**Rose**_

* * *

Jet lag is a bitch.

I left Baia yesterday morning, flew twenty hours total -not including the ten hours of layovers and delays- and yet, it's only nine AM here.

It's been fourteen years since I last made the trip and I am quickly remembering why I hated it so much, aside from the fact that I was only here because of _her. _

Falling face first onto the mattress, I let out a long groan at the feel of being weightless for just a moment. I have far too many things to do and very little time to do it, so sleep will have to wait.

Reaching in my back pocket, I grab my phone and open the _Skype _app, dialing Olena. Lifting myself up on my elbows, I stare at my reflection on the little screen, taking a long look at the circles forming under my eyes and the ghostly white color of my face. I really should have taken a few minutes to freshen up before meeting with them, but the delay in Los Angeles cost me the four extra hours I should have had.

"Roza," Olena's face fills the screen, "how was your flight? Did everything go well?"

"Flight was good, long but good, and," I pause, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.

"Oh, I know that look," she smiles with those knowing eyes, "how bad was it?"

"Not at all really," my shoulders touch my ears, "considering he ran out of Mason's office without even looking at me." And after seeing my reflection, I am not even mad about it. Really, it's not fair that he looks like he should be on the cover of GQ and I am two steps away from being a zombie on the Walking Dead.

She purses her lips in a tight line and nods softly, "Well, it has been a long while since you have seen each other. Give him time, I'm sure he will come around," she reassures in the way she always does, trying to find the bright spot in every situation.

"I don't think time is what he needs," I mutter under my breath. _A swift kick to the balls, yes, but time -no he's had ten years. _

"Have you talked to the others?" I ask, chewing on my bottom lip.

"Yes, they are making their final arrangements and will be ready to leave by the end of next week." she yawns, broadcasting her exhaustion.

I catch the contagious act through the phone, "Get some sleep, Mama, I'll call you guys tomorrow when I wake up."

"Alright, dear," she yawns again, covering her mouth and shaking her head, "I love you, and will see you soon."

"Love you, too, see you." Disconnecting the video, I toss my phone in front of me, falling flat against the bed once more.

I know if I lay here for more than a second, I will succumb to exhaustion, so I draw a deep breath and roll off the bed. Grabbing my toiletries bag, I head to the bathroom, hoping a shower will wake me up enough to at least make it through the afternoon.

Stripping down, I step into the hot spray, letting the heat work its way through my tired body and think over the list of things I need to do before the day is out.

Call the representative for the photo shoot next week, look over the full list of publicity opportunities for Dimitri, go to Barnes & Noble and buy a new planner, look through the tabloids and contracts see exactly what kind of damage control we are going to have to do to rebuild Dimitri's standings and if there is time, search the market for a house.

No rest for the wicked, I guess.

But that's how it goes in this life, you have to be one step ahead at all times, stay in front of the problem. I learned that lesson quickly when my father was caught in the crossfire of a turf war.

Baba owned several large areas of land which he used for his business - special forces arms training and manufacturing. He designed weapons that could be used in all types of situations, environments, and climates. Rain, snow, sleet, and shine, you could put their firearms through it all and they would function properly every single time, never jamming or misfiring, and the knives and swords never dulled or rusted.

I was supposed to take over the day to day operations - a glorified paper pusher, essentially- when I turned eighteen, but I told him I wanted to go to college. You know, just in case it didn't work out, I had a backup plan. I took online classes and earned my bachelor's degree in Business Management and Media Marketing.

About a year ago, things took a turn for the worse with his operation. A competitor company -based out of Novosibirsk- accused Baba of stealing their design and market. It took us months to trace back the data and prove that Baba's designs and marketing were one hundred percent his own. However, in that time the accusations from _Guardian Nation_ burned the bridges between all of our clients. The business went belly up and Baba slipped off the grid, hoping to remodel his products and come back with a vengeance.

He called last month to tell me he wasn't coming back. That he couldn't reconfigure the firearms any more than they already have without risking their durability. He sold the business to the highest bidder and retired to Italy with his 'best friend' and business partner Pavel. _I swear there is more to that story, but I'm not going there right now._ He asked me to join him, but I turned down the offer. I had already been contacted by Mase at that point and had to choose -stay in Baia, go live with Baba, or help Dimitri.

Staying in Baia wasn't truly an option once I told Olena about the season-opening scandal and her son's downfall. Besides, without Baba, and the loss of Yeva _-which took us all by storm-_ we all needed to move on to better things. Plus, Dimitri seemed to be in a worse position mentally, so the choice was rather simple.

Baba was more than okay with my decision, claiming he knew at some point, I would go to him and resolve our issues. I quickly pumped his breaks, making it clear that this move isn't a ploy to be with him again, but rather to give him a reason to swim up for air.

For years, he has been falling further and further, it's time he finds his happiness again. Because no matter how many times he claims he is fine to everyone around him, it's obvious he is anything but. He's on the fast track to an early grave at the speed he is traveling. At this point, it's less about his ratings or stats, those will rise and fall no matter what, it's about him.

His health. His mindset. _His heart. _

He may think I am only here to revamp his fanbase -which I will because it's my job- but it's far more than that. He needs help -_mentally and emotionally-_ and no matter the smidge of anger I still hold for him buried deep in the recesses of my heart, I will be the one to pull him from the dark waves.

Because the truth is, I still love him.

I never stopped.

And I never will.

Dimitri has branded himself on my soul, so much so, that I have not been with anyone since him, nor do I plan too. He left his mark on my heart, buried under layer upon layer of scar tissue now, but it's still there and no one will ever take that from him. It's why I can't help myself from being here, why I didn't hesitate flying across the world to save the man who damn near destroyed me.

* * *

_**Ten Years Ago…..**_

"Little," Adrian raps his knuckles on the half closed bathroom door, poking his head through the crack, "hey, what's wrong," he pushes the door open fully, drops to his knees beside me and gathers my hair in his hands just in time before it falls into the toilet bowl full of my stomach's contents.

I opened my mouth to answer him, but the dinosaurs ring again and I answer their call, forcing my face back into the porcelain chamber.

He holds my hair with one hand, rubbing my back with the other while repeating _'I got you'_ over and over again. His touch is welcome, it's the first compassionate action I have accepted in months.

When I'm done, I sit back, resting against the bathtub, and Adrian flushes the toilet. He leaves my side for a second to grab a small cup of water. I take it with shaky hands, rinsing my mouth of the horrid taste.

"Thank you," I whisper, leaning my head back on the edge of the tub.

"Anytime," he rubs my arm, tilting my face toward his with a finger under my chin, "but I'm worried about you, Little."

"I'm okay, just ate something bad, I guess," I try to lift my shoulders for a shrug, but my body is far too weak for the simple movement.

He raises his brow, "When was the last time you actually ate anything," he says sternly, knowing damn well it's been a hot minute.

"I had cereal this morning," pointing to the toilet, "apparently it was not _gr-r-reat._"

"Rose..." he pauses to shake his head. Dragging a hand over his face, he looks back at me with a raised brow, "where is your dad?"

"I don't know, work probably," I turn my face away from him, placing my cheek to the cool porcelain of the tub.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, dialing who I assume to be Olena when I hear him say Aunt in Russian. I grew up speaking Turkish and English, and have learned a little Russian over the last six years, but it's not my primary language. I manage pretty well, but in my groggy state, he might as well be speaking Japanese.

Rapidly the words fly from his mouth and he steps out into the hall. Fisting his hand through his hair, he pulls roughly on the longer strands in the back. I give up on trying to listen in, my brain not wanting to process anything other than the wretched feeling rolling through my stomach.

"Okay, come on," he claps his hands together, squatting down to my level, "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"What?" I pop my head up, staring up at him wide-eyed, "no, it's just a stomach bug or something."

"I am not fighting you on this," forcing one arm under my legs, the other behind my back, he pulls me to his chest, "you're going and that's final. Auntie said so." He stands back to his feet, cradling me in his arms, "Shit, Rose, how much weight have you lost?"

"I don't know," I mumble, "but really, Adrian, I am fine."

_Lies!_

I'm not fine, not in the slightest, but it's the only thing I can say at this point. I want nothing more than to talk about it, to scream, yell, and shout about how the man who promised to never hurt me the way my mother did, did exactly that. I want for once to be able to tell the truth, but I can't. My mind and heart refuse to open up again.

"No, the fuck you're not," he growls, "you feel like a damn feather, you're throwing up, and you look like someone dumped a bucket of white paint over your face. You. are. not. fine," I feel each period in his words like a shock to the heart.

* * *

A knock on the hotel room door pulls me from the memory of the lowest point of my life. With my back pressed against the cold tile wall, I slide down, hugging my knees to my chest.

_If you cry in the shower, does it really count? _

I hate looking back at that day, recalling how broken I was because of him. Back then, losing him felt like chopping off a limb. I didn't know how to function without it. It may sound silly now, but when your sixteen going through your very first heartbreak, it's devastating. The worst part of it all, no one knew about us. I had no one I could talk to, not even Olena, about how broken I felt. Every single day, I had to fight within myself just to keep going. I spent many nights hoping I didn't have to wake up to face another day. And that was _before_ he left, growing far worse afterward.

_Just because I smile doesn't mean I am okay. _

I blame my mother for my abandonment issues, for the deep-rooted depression that suffocates me every day, the anxiety of never being good enough, and the inability to trust. For everything. And I blame Dimitri for confirming it all.

He was the first -and only- person I let see the darkest corners of my mind. I confided in him, told him every single heartbreaking truth of my thoughts. Then, I gave him my heart, trusting him not to break it any more than it already was. And he threw it away without so much as a goodbye.

_That's what hurts the most; it ended without warning. _

I built wall after wall around my shattered heart, protecting it from any further damage from anyone and everyone. It's why I haven't been in a relationship since Dimitri. Not only because of the above-mentioned issues but because Xander is the only reason my heart still beats. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here, I am sure of it.

Xander gave me a reason to fight, to prove to myself that I am better than I was yesterday and strive to be better tomorrow than I am today. He is the reason I wake up every morning and smile. Everything I do, I do for him- which is another reason I decided to come here. It's time they both knew the truth.

Another knock sounds on the door and I groan, wishing whoever is on the other side would leave. I am not expecting anyone, seeing how nobody knows I'm here - bar Mason - and I didn't order room service.

_Knock. Knock._

"Ugh!" I turn off the now cold water and pull myself up from the floor. Twisting my hair into a towel, I grab the complimentary robe and stomp to answer the door. I'm sure whoever is on the other side is about to wish they hadn't been so persistent. With puffy eyes and red blotchy cheeks, I rip the door open, ready to give the person a thorough lashing, but no words come out.

"Delivery for Miss Mazur," a young man no older than eighteen, holds a beautiful vase of lilies and carnations -_my favorite flowers_\- smiling brightly at me with his brace covered teeth.

I don't have to read the card to know who they're from and to be quite honest, I don't even want to accept them. But I do because I am not that type of woman who refuses a gift. Signing the delivery sheet, I thank him with a tip and close the door with my foot.

I set the vase down on the table, stepping back a time or two to look at the arraignment. Most people assume -like my name- I love roses, but nothing could be further from the truth. I, along with all of the Belikov's, despise them and all rose-related items for one single reason.

When we were younger and Dimitri's father was still around, he used to buy roses for Olena whenever he spent the night before 'expressing his emotions'. That's what she used to call it, but we all knew what really happened. He would beat her, for no reason at all, leaving bruises scattered across her face and body that she tried to cover up before we could see. _But we didn't need to see to know._ The next day, he would 'apologize' with a bouquet of red roses, promising never to hurt her again.

He always did though, until Dimitri finally grew bigger than him, and with Baba's help, got rid of him for good. We never talked about him after that, simply letting the memory of him fade to the background.

One day, I made an off-handed comment to Vika that if a boy ever bought me flowers I would want lilies or carnations. They are simple but beautiful and the furthest thing from the memory of roses sitting on the dining table.

I never even told him directly.

Curiosity gets the better of me and I pluck the card from the middle, drawing a deep breath -_stay strong walls, _my heart pleads. Lifting the lip, I pull out the small white cardstock, instantly recognizing his handwriting.

_**I'm sorry, Roza. **_

_**For everything.**_

_Stay strong, stay strong,_ my heart pleads over and over, and just as I think I might have a fighting chance, a tear falls from my eye, landing on the card stock. It doesn't make a sound, but the symbolism is loud and clear.

_There goes the first brick. _


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter Seven**_

_**Rose**_

* * *

The smell of freshly ground coffee and baked pastries floats around the small cafe I chose to meet with Dimitri this morning; a quaint little place on the corner of Hall St just outside of Downtown. Ordering a vanilla cappuccino, needing a little boost this morning, I take a seat on the couch against the exposed brick wall at the front of the shop.

Sinking into the leather comfort, I sip on my coffee waiting for him to show. I told him that I would be here at Eight AM, it's only Seven-Fifty, so he still has a few minutes. Clutching my cup between both hands, I blow on the hot liquid, admiring the little heart they drew with the milk in the center. _Talent my friends. _I tried to do it once when Sydney -one of my high school best friends - got her first job at a coffee shop back home and failed miserably. So I tip my hat to those who can draw flowers and whatever else.

Tapping my watch, I check the time, five after eight. My leg bounces in irritation at him being late, but I'm not going to freak out just yet. I'll give it a few more minutes before I let my Hathaway show. Finding a plug next to the couch, I pull out my laptop, plug it in and power up. Might as well knock out emails while I wait.

I answer a dozen - everything from responding to Baba about his latest new discovery in Italy - to the project manager for the photo shoot I signed up Dimitri to audition in - and Dimitri's team manager, Mikhal Tanner, about having him assist in the winter camps the _Rider's_ do every year. Those spots are usually reserved for the Rookies, but Tanner and Mason agree that it would be beneficial to get him out and about to interact with the younger generation.

Before I know it, it's Nine AM.

Now I'm pissed.

Closing down my laptop, I pack it away and pull out my phone to call Mason. The door to the shop chimes as I hit the call button. Dimitri walks in, looking like he just rolled out of bed. His hair is sticking out in every direction - and not in the sexy mess kind of way- and his clothes are wrinkled as if he pulled them off the floor.

"Seriously," I gawk at him, waving a hand up and down, "you're an hour late and you show up like that?"

"Overslept," he flops down onto the couch, resting his head against the back, " I came right here when I realized what time it was." He turns to face me, a crooked smile on his handsome face, "Good Morning, Ms. Mazur."

Just like that, my body flushes with heat, my skin tingling with his proximity. I try to remind myself that I am mad -_no, pissed- _at him for being late and more so now for him calling me Ms. Mazur. I can't stand that.

"It was a good morning, Mr. Belikov," I screw my lips up when I say his name, fighting fire with fire, "an hour ago."

"I'm sorry," he says earnestly, "I had a long day yesterday, passed out when I finally got home and overslept."

Tuning my body to fully face him, "What were you doing?" I ask accusingly. He left right at the start of the meeting yesterday, so what in the hell was he doing all day that left him so exhausted.

His eyes display hurt at my question, but he blinks and turns his face away from me, "I had some things to take care of, nothing you need to worry about. I wasn't at the bar or in a hotel room if that's what your thinking."

That's exactly what I was thinking, but I don't say that. Judging by the way his jaw is ticking he already knows that's where my mind went. I stare at him for a moment, admiring the cut of his jaw and five o'clock shadow giving him a rugged sexy look. Why does he have to look so damn good? Even in sweat pants and a wrinkled t-shirt, this man is sex on a stick.

Propping my elbow on the back of the couch, I rest my head on my hand, poking his shoulder with my index finger, "I'm sorry," I say earnestly. _Catch more flies with honey than vinegar,_ "I didn't mean to sound like that, but you have to understand, Dimitri, you haven't really given me a reason to assume otherwise."

"Yeah," he scoffs, "You and everyone else in the fucking world," he adds in a mumble. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he stands up, "I'm going to get a coffee, do you want another?" he asks, pointing to my now empty cup on the table.

I nod and he heads to the counter. The blonde barista steps in to take his order, leaning forward on the counter with both hands, pushing her boobs higher toward him. I'm surprised to see his eyes remain locked on hers, not paying any mind to the blatant display the girl is giving him. He tilts his head toward me with a smile, I assume telling her I would like another coffee as well. She gives me a once over with disapproving jade eyes. Blondie turns around with a huff to make the order, her ponytail swinging side to side.

When she returns, she says something to him in a low voice I can't hear, and her lips barely move so reading them is off the table too. Dimitri shakes his head, turning back to me once more, "Hey babe, do you want a scone too?"

The urge to stick my finger in my ear to clear the clog is astounding. Surely he didn't just call me _babe_. I blink a few times, the organ in the center of my chest tightening with every beat. I flip my gaze between him and the blonde who is now flushed red with rejection. I linger longer on her - both distracting myself from him and trying to figure out where the hell I know her from. Those jade eyes, blonde hair, something about her leaves me uneasy.

I do my best to smile, but I am pretty sure it looks like I'm having a stroke. "Sure, blueberry please."

"You got it," he grins with a wink.

The girl pulls the scones from the glass case, warming them up in the little oven and shoves them across the counter at Dimitri when they're done. _Rude. _

He laughs quietly to himself when he sits back down, tossing my scone on the couch in front of me. "Some days I really hate being me."

"What's to hate?" I say absentmindedly, not looking at him as I dive into my scone. "You just won the series, have a massive house, fancy cars, and you can have any girl you want."

"All of the above," he mutters so low I almost don't catch it. Setting his coffee on the table, he mirrors my position. His long fingers threading through his dark hair and I can't help but wonder if it's still as silky as it was when it reached his shoulders.

"I just want to be me again, just for a little while, but I can't," he says with a tender sigh, "Everywhere I go, someone knows my name and they all want something." Adopting a fan-girl voice, he says, "_Take a picture with me, Dimitri. Sign this for me, Dimitri. Come have a drink with me, Dimitri. Let me suck your dick, Dimitri," _he rolls his eyes and reaches for his coffee. Drinking a quick sip, he shrugs,_ "_They're all the same. I just want to be nobody for a day."

I drop my eyes to my cup, running my finger around the rim, processing his words. First, I want to acknowledge that he just opened up to me. Without even thinking, we have fallen back into our old roles, talking without the worry of what the other will say. I didn't think it would be this easy to get him to sit down and talk to me, but I am not going to complain about it.

Secondly, I always thought he loved the attention, after all, it's what he worked so damn hard for. Wouldn't he want to be noticed and recognized for his accomplishments? Yeah, maybe not the come-ons, but still, most men would take a woman up on the offer of a blowjob without a second thought. I know for a fact he has on more than one occasion. The green-eyed monster rears its ugly head, making my response one of emotions rather than logical thinking.

"If I recall correctly, you certainly didn't mind doing that last one...more than once," I sneer, "after all, it's kind of the reason I am here."

"You're right," he growls, goosebumps rise along my skin at the sound, _not the good kind either, _"but I didn't ask you to be."

And just like that, I slammed the door on his open communication. I can see him shutting down, closing himself off from me. His eyes take on a haunted look and his breathing slows so much that I have to stare at his chest to confirm it's still rising and falling. _Stupid jealousy. _

Why am I even jealous in the first place? He isn't mine, hasn't been in a long time. He is a grown man who is allowed to do whatever he pleases. Yet, even as that admission crosses my mind, I feel my stomach churn. I don't want to think about all the women he has been with or even the ones who tried but didn't make the cut. I don't want to picture anyone touching him the way I once did.

"Dim.."

"No," he cuts me off, rising from his seat and grips the back of his neck, "don't apologize, Rose, no need. You're right, absolutely right." he jams the tips of his fingers into his sternum, "I fucked up. I'll own it, but don't act like you know everything."

I'm back to being pissed. I wasn't going to apologize for calling him out, but rather for doing it here. Now he is making a public spectacle, drawing the attention of the dozen other patrons in the small shop. I feel heat flood my face -both in anger and embarrassment.

Taking one step toward him, I lower my voice so only he hears me, "I'm not, but now is not the time or place to discuss that. I asked you here to talk over the plans Mase and I have for you, not to bitch each other out."

"Is everything okay," the bimbo blonde steps between us, laying a hand on Dimitri's arm, squeezing his bicep.

I am two seconds away from breaking her hand for touching him, but he beats me to it - well, kind of - by taking a step back toward the door. Threading his fingers through his hair, he shakes his head, turns around and flees the coffee shop.

Grabbing my bag, I loop it over my shoulders, toss a couple of bucks on the table next to our coffees and my half-eaten scone. I'm kind of sad to leave that behind, it was really good, but if I wait any longer, he will be gone. I can still see his fading form right now, he's not far. If I run, I can catch him.

"Dimitri," I yell over the buzz of the city and push my way through a group of teenage girls walking down the middle of the sidewalk, "Belikov."

He doesn't slow his pace. He isn't running, more like _really _fast walking, his long ass legs giving him an advantage.

"I swear to God if I fall and break something I am blaming you," I scream just before I miss the drop off of the curb, tumbling forward into the middle of the street. "Ahh-"

"Roza!" he spins around, pauses for a split second and then runs toward me at full speed, "Roza!" he yells again, only to be drowned out by the screech of a car horn. I scramble to get to my feet, but my ankle is not wanting to support me. I close my eyes, accepting the fact that I am more than likely going to die right here because I couldn't watch where I was going. Only death doesn't come, a strong hot body does though. Dimitri lifts me into his arms, rushing us out of the way just in time.

"They didn't even try to slow down," I gasp out, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.

Dimitri doesn't say anything as he walks us down the street, still holding me tightly to his chest. I can feel the rate of his heart beating against my palm that rests in the center of his chest. With my other arm around his shoulders, I take a moment to appreciate the way his muscles ripple with every step. I shouldn't - _really shouldn't - _but it would be a shame to pass up the opportunity.

That. That right there is my problem. I'm supposed to hate him. To not want to touch him after the way he left me high and dry. I should want absolutely nothing to do with him, but it's like his touch flips off every switch in my mind. I can't stay mad at him when he holds me like this. Even if it's just the 'convenient' way to move me as quickly as possible, the way his arms pull tighter with every strained breath leave me feeling like it's more than that. His heartbeat is wild, even though I know he isn't breaking a sweat carrying me and his eyes glaze over with fear.

How can I possibly stay mad at him when he holds me like he never wants to let go again?

_He let you go once, he's bound to do it again. He's not the man you remember, Rose, keep that in mind. _

We reach his truck and he sets the tailgate down, sitting me on the edge. His forehead drops to mine, a shuttered breath floats from his lips, "Babe, you have to be careful," he whispers. Pulling away to look me in the eyes, he cups my face between his large rough hands. A shot of desire zips through my body at the compassionate action and heart of his voice, "You're not in Baia anymore. There are people, cars, and curbs," he laughs lightly on the last one, "everywhere. You have to pay attention to where you are going."

"I'm sorry," I say, my throat dry as the Sahara as I stare back at him.

His hands slide down my neck, fingertips trailing a path of fire across my skin, over my shoulders, down my arms. When he reaches my thighs I can't stop the small moan that builds in my throat. He doesn't stop there though, his fingers skirt around the junction of my thighs, down to the outside of my leg, stopping at my ankle.

Pressing two fingers to my ankle, he checks for swelling, and then mobility by rotating my foot, "Doesn't seem broken, guess you can't blame me," he smirks, those brown eyes of his twinkling, knowing damn well the reaction he is causing in my body.

I swat his shoulder, laughing, "You're an ass."

He rubs the spot, a throaty chuckle accompanies his wide grin, "Saving you makes me an ass," his brow arched in question. Standing straight he steps closer, his hands returning to my thighs, his thumbs rubbing soft small circles, "maybe I should have just left you then."

He moves in a little closer, standing directly between my legs now, his hands slowly inching their way higher toward my hip, his aroused cock millimeters from my center. He's close. _Too close._ And I need to break this spell he has put me under. My eyes are drawn to his lips as his tongue peaks out to wet them. On their own accord -_certainly not by my own willingness_\- my hips shoot forward, rubbing my heat against his hard-on. A low growl rumbles through his chest and he dips his head lower until we're sharing the same breath. His fingers grip me harder, holding me in place against him.

I need an out. And I need it now. I can't be this close to him. It feels so right...wait… no wrong. It feels wrong. Very wrong. _Maybe if I say it enough, I'll believe it_. I need to say something, do something to break us from this lust-filled bubble.

"You already did," I whisper into the sliver of space that separates us, bursting the said bubble with a single prick.

He jolts back as if I just tasered him, putting a good three feet between every part of our bodies. His face goes slack as he slaps on that damn mask again. The warmth of his eyes vanishes into cold, dark pools of mud and his jaw ticking with every strained breath.

_Good job, Rose. Good job. _I clap myself on the back for my power of resistance. I know my words may as well have been a kick to the balls, but I had too. I can't let myself fall back into his trap. No matter how hard my lady parts beg me too. Feeling him - hard and ready - damn near broke my will power. And seeing that look on his face now is breaking my soul.

_There goes another brick. _

"Dimitri," my chin drops to my chest, shame weighing on my shoulders for pulling that card. I could have said a dozen things. I could have simply said stop. I know he would have moved back in a blink. But no, I had to hit him where it hurts the most.

"How bad was it," he says after several silent seconds. "How bad was it for you when I left?"

I focus in on the sounds of the city, cars flying by on the freeway just a mile away, horns honking and sirens blaring. How do I answer that? I can't tell him the truth of everything that happened in the wake of his leaving right here in an alley on the tailgate of his truck. This conversation needs to happen somewhere private, somewhere neither of us can run away from.

"Can we talk about this later?" I ask on a trembling breath, lifting my head to meet his gaze.

His jaw is locked tight, eyes wide as his mind works over all of the possible things that could have happened. His chest rises and falls in heavy guilt-ridden breaths.

Nodding softly, he lets the conversation go for the time being. Helping me down, he closes the tailgate and points to the passenger side, "Hop in, I'll take you to the hotel." Digging in his pocket he pulls out his keys and climbs into the truck without another look at me.

* * *

Once back at the hotel, I shower, brush my teeth and lie down for a nap. I need to sleep away this gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. Today didn't go as planned. I wanted to start off on the right foot with him, meet in a neutral place hoping that both of us would be able to mind our manners for a little bit. You see how well that went.

It kills me _-and excites me all the same_\- that he still has this effect on me. When I am near him, it's too easy to fall into conversation and burning desire. When he first opened up I was shocked, but thinking about it now, I understand. Not only was he probably still drowsy, but I'm his comfort zone. I always have been and time has not lessened that effect. He doesn't have anyone here that knows him as I know him.

I should be happy about that because it means he has been alone this entire time, not able to really open up and show himself to anyone, but honestly, it makes me feel like shit. Why? I have no earthly idea. I keep trying to remind myself that he left me and deserves everything that the world has dealt him. But I can't. And I wish I knew why.

I wish on everything I love that I could unlove him. That I could not care about how alone he has been. Not care that he slept with all those women or that he is drinking himself into an early grave. Just like his father. Well, that asshole is still alive somewhere, but that's beside the point. The point is, I shouldn't care about any of it. Yet, here I am, laying in this massive fluffy hotel bed in Dallas, Texas, crying.

And tomorrow, I move in with him.

_Stay strong walls,_ I feel another brick slip with my tears, shattering on the ground. If I'm not careful, my heart will be next.


	8. Chapter 8

_**To my U.S. Readers- Have a happy and safe 4th of July!**_

_**Welcome new followers, I hope you are enjoying this as much as I am. **_

* * *

_**Chapter Eight**_

_**Dimitri**_

* * *

I am so screwed.

There is no way I am going to be able to do this.

It's too easy - _yet so fucking complicated _\- being around her.

Have you ever had that one best friend that no matter how much time goes by between visits, or how you left the last time you spoke, once you see each other again things just flow? You're instantly comfortable and pick up a conversation as if you hadn't been apart for so long? If you have, let me ask you, have you ever been in love with that friend? If so, then you know how this feels, if not, allow me to explain.

It's fucking amazing and torturous at the same time. In one way, it's as if you can finally breathe again. The weight of your troubles slides off your shoulders and you feel free. You can open the forbidden chambers of your mind and let out the skeletons that hide in your closet. And just when you start to feel better, you have to close it back up, pretend it never happened, and keep moving. Because even though you can still share everything with this person, you know that things will never be the same. That at some point, you both have to go back to your own lives and it will be another ten years before you see each other again. And that right there guts me.

I have spent years bottling up my thoughts and feelings. I never connected with anyone the way I did to Roza. I can't tell you the names of my teammates wives and kids or the women I spent a night with. I don't know any of their likes and dislikes. Or what they do outside of the game. But I can tell you what Roza's favorite food is - _Chocolate Donuts. _I can tell you what she looks like when she's sad, mad, happy, and horny. I can tell you what movie she can recite by heart and what songs she listens to when she feels like giving up. I can tell you her favorite color, holiday, place on earth, and every other minor detail you can think of because she is my babe. She is the best friend that when I see her, I feel free.

Yesterday in the coffee shop it was too easy to talk to her. I even slipped and called her _'babe'_ without thinking twice about it. I saw the way she was caught off guard - hell, I was too, but I rolled with it. We were never the '_babe'_ or '_baby'_ couple, we really couldn't be in public anyway, but in private, we had no such reserves. _Comrade _and _Roza_ went out of the window when we were alone. It was our way of letting each other know we were there to listen. Those nights were rare, so when we had the chance, that's what we did. We talked. Sure, there were times when we engaged in other activities, but afterward, we would talk.

She would tell me about her daily battles, the negative thoughts that plagued her mind during the day. And I would confide in her about my anger issues and fear of turning into my father. We were each other's support system, and in a way, I feel we are falling back into those familiar roles.

Except there is one small problem, I'm not her _'baby'_ anymore.

I opened up to her, telling her how I wish I could just take a day to be _me_ again - like we used to do. I just want to escape the fame, the fans, the life of _Dimitri Belikov_ for a single day. And she shot back at me with so much fire I'm surprised the couch didn't start smoking.

I'll admit, I should have manned up and not ran away from her, but once I realized she was not feeling the same, I had to leave before I said things I couldn't take back. I didn't think she would come after me. I hoped that once she realized I wasn't stopping, she would turn around. But she didn't. She kept coming and almost got killed because of it. _Stubborn woman_.

I haven't felt that much fear in a long time. Not even right now, when I know she will be here any moment to live with me for the next few months - or however long this thing Ash has planned lasts. But when I saw the car flying toward her with no signs of stopping, my blood froze and every muscle in my body tensed for a split second before my instinct to protect her kicked in. Once I had her in my arms, I didn't want to let go. For a moment there, I didn't think she would either.

I could tell she wanted me; the way her eyes glazed over when we were only millimeters apart, her hips rocking into mine, her chest rising and falling with shaky breaths. Every physical sign was there, but it was her eyes that stopped me from pressing my lips to hers. Under the glaze of lust, I could see the pain it caused her to be so close, the fear she had of that moment becoming far more than she wanted. I was about to pull away when she whispered those damn words. _You already did._

Those three words told me all I needed to know. She will never be mine again.

And I don't know how to handle that. I don't know how to turn off this feeling inside my chest telling me to keep fighting when I know it's a losing battle. Though, if I am being frank, I don't want to because at least I feel something. I'd take feeling pain over nothing at all any day of the week. I just don't want to cause _her_ any more than I already have. I'll take the emotional beating, as long as in the end, she is okay.

_She has to be okay. _

A car door slams out front signaling Rose's arrival. Downing the shot of Tito's I have been staring at for the last hour, I push off the island, my chair scratching against the wood floor echoing through the room right alongside the thud of my heart. I push the chair back in, wipe my sweaty palms over jean covered thighs, and take a deep breath. This is it. The start of the longest months of my life.

I run my fingers through my hair to tame the strained locks from my earlier fisting of them, and walk to the door, opening it after another two breaths - one just wasn't enough.

My eyes find her instantly, Ash stands beside her, trying to take the bag from her hands and she smacks him playfully on the arm, laughing loudly at something he says too low for me to hear. The sound drifts through the evening air, floating through my ears and sinking into my bones. It's been far too long since I have heard her laugh like that and damn it if I don't want to hear it again and again. I got a hint of it when she was sitting on the bed of my truck, but it wasn't the same. That laugh was a simple chuckle as she playfully hit me, much like she just did to him. But with Ash, her laugh is rich, deep from her belly, sweet and warm. And even if I'm not the one pulling it from her, I'm glad I get to hear it.

The golden rays of the fading sun frame her, making her appear like the angel she is. A purple long sleeve, scoop neck shirt hugs her slim body to accent her beautiful curves. Deep brown hair spills over her shoulders as she leans forward to pick up her bag and my fingers twitch at my side, wanting to brush it back, uncovering the slim column of her neck and delicate shoulders.

It amazes me how much she changed. When I left, she was still a girl - freshly sixteen and growing - now though, she is all woman. I'm not saying I expected her to be the same -I'm certainly not- but it's not just her physical attributes. In her tight shirt and leggings is easy to see the definition in her womanly curves, but when you look past the exterior -straight into her heart and soul- she is wise beyond her years. The way she rolls her shoulders back, standing tall with her chin held high, shows off an edge she didn't before.

That intrigues me. I can't help but watch her - read her in the way I used too. We never needed words back then to communicate. We could tell what the other was thinking or feeling by the way our bodies moved. That much hasn't changed. I can see the way her nose crinkles - she is deep in thought, grabbing her bearings. Or the way she taps her outer thigh while talking to Ash, that tells me she is nervous. _I am too, Roza. I am too. _There is so much about her that is the same, yet different, and I can only wonder what else may have changed.

Is '_A Walk to Remember'_ still her favorite movie? She had a very unhealthy obsession with Shane West for a long while. Did she grow out of it?

Does she still listen to _Mad _by _Ne-Yo _on repeat when she is sad?

Is she still afraid of spiders?

Does she still sleep with one foot out from under the covers?

Is she still obsessed with vampires and werewolves?

_Damn Twilight epidemic. _

Ladies, serious question, how in the world are we men supposed to live up to a vampire who never ages and has all the money in the world? Or a shapeshifting Adonis? _We can't_. That's what your thinking, right? Thought so - but hey, I may not sparkle in the sunlight - however, I think I am doing pretty damn good on the Adonis front.

"Belikov, be a man and help the lady out," Ash yells from the boot of the car, where he is now pulling out several suitcases.

Dragging my hand over my face, I wipe away any hint of emotion, wonder, or concern, and walk down the cobblestone path to meet them in the drive.

* * *

"So…"

I grip the back of my neck, trying to look anywhere but at her. Ash, being the dick he is, left as soon as the bags were unloaded, leaving Rose and I standing on the front steps awkwardly. I was hoping he would stick around for a little bit and act as a buffer, but apparently, the cosmic universe is still fucking with me.

"So..." she repeats, adjusting the strap of her laptop bag.

"Uh, did you…" my mouth is desert dry as I try to break the tense silence. Licking my lips, I try again, "did you get the flowers I sent? I didn't get a chance to ask you yesterday."

She nods, not meeting my eyes and when she speaks it's no louder than a whisper on the wind, "They were beautiful."

I nod back, squeezing the back of my neck tighter, trying to figure out where in the hell I am supposed to go from here. Do I ask if she liked them because saying '_they were beautiful'_ isn't the same as saying, '_thank you, I loved them_'? Or do I just let it go? I'm going to stick with the latter, not wanting to push my luck.

"Well," clearing my throat, I reach down and pick up her two blue suitcases, "we should get inside."

Nodding she grabs her other two suitcases -the purple ones- and follows me inside. I stop in the foyer, waiting for her to clear the door before shutting it behind her and locking the deadbolts. Sidestepping her frozen frame, I smile at how wide her eyes grow as she takes in the living room.

When I designed the house, one of my conditions was it had to have vaulted ceilings in the living room. I had always loved the expansive feeling it provided and the look of the exposed timber support beams. Paired with the floor-to-ceiling windows that span the entire length of the room and into the kitchen the whole area is bright and open. When I first moved in, I would stand in here for hours, just looking out over the backyard - taking in the open Texas sky. After a few years, the view no longer mattered to me. It was a peace I no longer deserved and I stopped embracing each new day as I once had.

"Wow," she finally gasps out - pride sparks through my body -_she likes it._ "You really made something of yourself, didn't you?" _or not.._.I'm not one hundred percent sure if I should take her question as a compliment or a jab because the deadpan of her voice suggests she isn't impressed. That tingle of pride shifts it into skin-prickling shame, killing off the butterflies that floated around in my stomach meer moments earlier.

"Yeah, I guess," I shake off my conflicted feelings -hoping she doesn't notice the ants crawling across my skin- and clear my throat, "Um, since you're the first here, you can have whatever room you want."

"How many are there?" she asks in a curious tone.

"Seven in total. They're all upstairs, four to the left, mine is by itself on the right side of the loft," I point in the direction of the upstairs loft above our heads, before turning around to gesture to the French doors between the living room and kitchen, "and then two in the pool house."

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, working over the arraignments in her mind thoroughly before deciding. I'm not sure which factor is worrying her more, so I throw out one more detail, hoping to help her decide, "The rooms in the pool house have two twin beds each, kings for the main rooms."

Something clicks in her mind and she nods, "I'll take the pool house."

Uh. Not exactly what was hoping she would say. I had the twin beds put out there thinking that either Sonja or Karo would stay out there with the kids. "Alright," I say a little off-guard and pick up her bags, "let me show you the way."

Stopping at the back door, I set one bag down and show her the alarm system, "There are three panels total -garage, front, and this one. The pool house has one too." popping the plastic cover, I punch in the code, "All of the codes are the same, 0321, and it auto arms at ten PM."

She tries to raise a brow, failing as she always has, but it's cute that she still tries, "0321."

"Uh," I scratch at my chest, the left side next to my heart, "yeah, it's easy to remember," my attempt at playing it cool is not going very well. I hadn't even thought about changing the code before she arrived, it's been the same since I moved in. The tech told me to choose a date I would remember easily and that was the first one to come to mind. Her birthday and the day we lost our virginities together.

Disarming the system once more, I open the back door and gesture her through. She stops only a few feet onto the deck, taking in the expansive backyard, large kidney bean shaped pool with a grotto -an artificial rock cave- and the modest size pool house on the other side. I find myself admiring her face once more, only this time, it's obvious that she really does like it.

Her lips parted in a cute little _O_ and her eyes wide sparkling with awe. "Wow," she breathes out after a minute, "this is beautiful."

"I hoped you would like it," the thought escapes my lips before I can stop it. "Uh, I mean, for while you're here."

"Isn't the water too cold," there is a hint of disappointment in her voice and I am all too happy to wash it away.

"It's heated," I smile, nudging her shoulder, "feel it. Should be around eighty right now, when it gets colder I'll up the temperature."

Setting her bags down, she walks over to the grotto where a steady stream of water flows off the top, filtering the entire pool. The gentle breeze floating around us stirs her long dark waves, pushing them to the side and over her shoulder. Her shirt rises just slightly as she reaches forward to let the water run over her fingertips, revealing a sliver of her smooth almond skin.

"Oh, this is wonderful," she moans, turning her hand over and over again playing in the waterfall.

"Yes, it is," I whisper, more to myself than to her and thankfully, she doesn't seem to have heard my small confession.

I have wondered, dreamed, and roleplayed what it would be like to have her here. Now that she is, I can't help but replay them over in my head. Days spent laying in the sun, or cuddled on the couch, watching TV or movies, simply enjoying each others company. Late night swims that lead to later night rounds between the sheets, ending with naked snuggles and the best sleep of my life.

I want nothing more than to make every single dream and fantasy I've had over the years come true. Reclaim what's mine and show her how fucking sorry I am for leaving and promise on my own heartbeat that I will never let her go again.

But I can't.

I have to keep my distance and put out the flames of desire I have for her.

Her phone rings in the pocket of her laptop bag, pulling both of us from our dazes. Quickly she rounds the pool, pulling her phone out just before the ringing stops. I don't see whose name is displayed on the screen, but judging by the way her eyes light up, I assume it's someone special.

"Hey baby," she says with a brilliant smile, "how was your day?"

_Ouch. _

Did you see that?

That long sword she just pulled from behind her back, slicing me right down the middle.

I nod silently to the pool house, taking her bags in my hands, I leave her to her phone call. Flipping on the lights, I set everything in the small living area, leaving it for her to choose which room she wants to stay in. Not wanting to eavesdrop on her conversation, I busy myself inside, adjusting the pillows on the couch, pushing in the chairs - because apparently, the setup crew didn't know how to do that properly.

With everything done, I pace back and forth, wearing a hole in the new blue and black boxed area rug. I run my hands through my hair, stuff them in my pockets, pull them back out to thread through my hair again, check my watch, pace some more, scratch my chest, fidget with my watch band and check the time again. She has been on the phone for about twenty minutes and my curiosity is getting the best of me. I want to know what she is saying, who this man is, and how serious they are. I can't help myself, I have to take a peek.

I step toward the window, pulling open the curtains just enough to see her. She moved to sit in the blue Adirondack chair on the deck, her legs pulled to her chest, one arm wrapped around her shins, the other still holding the phone to her ear. She stares into the early night sky, a look of pain on her face, a shimmer of tears in her eyes. She nods, saying something to whoever is on the other end and lowers the phone, placing it on the arm of the chair, and tucks her nose in between her knees.

_What in the hell?_

* * *

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All My Love - Dream


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter Nine**_

_**Rose**_

* * *

"Rose," Dimitri's voice carries on the evening breeze, laced with concern. "Are you okay?"

Sniffling, I lift my head, swatting away the saltwater on my cheeks, meeting a pair of brown eyes that make my heart squeeze tighter. I have never been away from Xander like this and that phone call was the first I managed with him since I got here. I think it's safe to say that I am having a bit of a Mama meltdown at the moment. I miss my baby boy.

Wiping my nose with the sleeve of my shirt -_classy, I know- _I give my best attempt at a smile, "Yeah, I'm all good."

He raises his brow in question, calling me out on my bullshit, "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"No," I groan, hating that he still reads me the way I do him, "but I'm hoping you will respect me enough to let it go for now."

I didn't mean for it to come out that way, I just don't want him pushing those buttons just yet. I'm not ready for that conversation. I don't know that I ever really will be. It has to happen, sooner rather than later, but I'm buying every second of time that I can.

Holding his hands up in surrender, "Alright," he nods, drawing in a deep breath, "I left your bags in the living room. I am going to order Chinese for dinner." My stomach growls at the prospect of _General Tso's and Lo Mien_. "I'll order you your usual," he laughs and steps toward the main house.

I watch his retreat, admiring the way his jeans hug his muscled legs and ass. Don't get me wrong, seeing him in a suit was a major turn on - hell, the sweats were too- but there is something about a man in a pair of jeans that does something sinister to my body. It's almost better than seeing him in his baseball pants. _Almost. _

Shaking my head, I tell myself to settle down. Crickets sing in the background, helping me come back to the reality that is my life, drowning out the lust-filled desires of my body. It's rather calming out here, which I need right about now.

This house, everything about it, is freaking unbelievable. Located outside of Dallas in a small rural town, we're far enough away that the sounds of the city don't overpower the sounds of nature. The closest neighbor is a half a mile in either direction and the sky is expansive, with nothing in the way for miles. Mase had told me Dimitri's house was massive, but I wasn't expecting this.

And I surely wasn't expecting seeing it laid out the way I once told him I would want _our_ home to be in. From the living room - to the kitchen - to the pool, and I would be willing to bet if I went into his room, I would find a shower big enough for ten. But we're not going to go there. Nope, never going there. Nope. Nope. I wonder if there is a bench - no - stop it, Rose.

Groaning, I press my forehead against my knees. _This was such a bad idea._

"What's a bad idea," Dimitri chuckles from behind me, scaring me shitless.

I jump out of my skin, falling from the chair with the grace of a fish out of water. "What the hell, are you a damn ninja now?" I screech, scrambling back to my feet, putting a little distance between us. Dusting my hands off on my thighs, I turn around to look at him.

"I called your name three times, Roza," his laugh grows deeper, shaking his broad frame as it rises from his chest.

I cringe just slightly when he says my name. I am used to being called Roza by Olena and the family, but coming from him, it's different. When he said it yesterday, I barely paid any mind, you know, because there was a car on a fast track to flattening me like a pancake. But now, with no distraction, I can't help but feel that jab to my heart at the sound of it rolling off his tongue.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, noticing my reaction, "old habit, I'll work on it."

"It's okay," shaking my head I wave off his apology, "your Mama still calls me that."

His hand goes to the back of his neck, rubbing the spot roughly, "You're still close with her?"

_Don't watch his arms. Don't watch his arms. _

Who am I freaking kidding? I'm watching. Watching and drooling. The tight white fabric of his baseball tee stretches deliciously around his thick muscles, contrasting against his tan skin, making him look darker under the dim porch lights.

I blink a few times, trying to refocus my attention, "Of course, she's still my family."

"Right," he sighs, dropping his hand to shove it into the front pocket of his jeans. Clearing his throat, he says, "well, I just came out to tell you dinner would be here shortly."

Pulling my lip between my teeth, I look over to the pool house and back to him, "Okay, I'll just unpack real quick and meet you inside."

"Okay," he dips his head, spins on his heels, and heads back in.

Mimicking his movements, I head into the pool house to unpack and change. Much like the main house, it's open and warm. Crossback bar stools line the breakfast bar in the kitchen, a small four-person dining table just to the left, with a beautiful globe light chandelier hanging a few feet above the sandalwood surface. The living area is small but cozy with a two-piece cream colored sectional and Beachwood tables. I give the man credit, he has good taste.

Grabbing my bags, I choose the back room and unpack my two suitcases, leaving Xander's for another day. I brought a few of his things from home with me while the rest is stored in Mason's garage and a few with Olena to be flown over when they make their trip. I didn't want to bring a whole lot of either of our belongings here just to move them again when I find us a house.

Storing my clothes in the closet and heather grey dressers - completing the calming beach vibe - I change into a long-sleeved nightshirt and sleep pants, twist my hair up into a messy bun, and meet Dimitri back out on the deck.

* * *

"God this is good," I lean back in my chair - the orange one this time - moaning as the _Lo Mein_ slides deliciously down my throat. We decided to eat out on the deck instead of inside the main house. I'm not complaining though, it's warm, but not hot, and the fresh air has settled my mind tremendously. "It's been so long since I have had good Chinese."

"Did you finally learn to cook," he laughs, wiping his mouth with the takeout napkin.

"Had too." I stab a piece of chicken, waving my fork around, "I couldn't rely on your mother alone to keep me alive."

"She loved cooking for you, even if you ate enough for a small army," he mumbles the last part, taking a sip from his beer.

I wanted to protest his consumption of any alcohol while we are here, but I know better than to try and force him into quitting. He hasn't gotten drunk since I arrived on Friday - at least not that I know of - and I have a feeling he won't as long as I am here. If anything, the memory of his father will keep him from reaching that point.

"That's not nice." I throw my fortune cookie at him.

Catching it, he laughs before breaking it in half, tossing one piece in his mouth, "Maybe not, but it's true."

"Are you calling me fat?" I set my fork down, suddenly not hungry, and turn in my seat, pulling my knees to my chest to sit sideways in the chair.

Never have I ever felt self-conscious around him. I used to tease him all the time when we were first starting to get physical with our relationship. Stripping in front of him came naturally; however, when I got pregnant with Xander, I never lost the extra baby weight. It's not much. My stomach is still flat, just not as toned as it once was and there is one lone stretch mark on the left side of my belly button.

"Rose, you are anything but fat," he says in a low, serious tone as if the idea is completely insane. Turning his face to mine, his expression is soft, but his eyes blaze with lust when they lock onto mine, "You're fucking gorgeous. Always have been. Always will be."

Blood rushes to my face and my heart does a pitter-patter dance inside my chest. It's hard for me to keep the barriers in place when he says things like that. Tucking my nose into the space between my knees, I hide my blush. It's completely dark out now with the only light coming from the small gas fire pit in front of us, but I don't want him to see how his statement affects me.

He clears his throat, closes the lid on his to-go box, and sets it on the chair next to him. Standing, he walks toward the other side of the fire pit and back, looking around as if trying to see behind me.

"What are you doing," I ask, looking behind me afraid there is something lurking in the shadows.

"Trying to see around the giant elephant that just sat down," he laughs, deep and rich. God- I love that sound. He has given me little chuckles over the last forty-eight hours, but getting him to laugh like that has never been easy.

"You're a dork," I snort- _snort, god help me- _"Sit down will you, you're freaking me out."

"Only if you promise me one thing," he points a finger, waiting on me to acknowledge him. I nod, wondering what in the world he is going to make me agree to. "Talk to me. Let's get this awkward conversation phase over with." Taking back to his seat, he folds his hands between his muscled thighs.

"What do you mean?"

"We have to work together. Hell, you're living here, I don't want either of us feeling like we have to walk on eggshells around the other. We have a history, we can't deny that, but we can move past it. Leave it behind us and start fresh."

_Ouch_.

I blink a few times, trying to hide the knife he just shoved at me. Don't get me wrong, I want to be civil with him, but I wasn't expecting him to want to ignore our past. I should have, but I didn't. Especially when there is a giant piece of our past joining us next week. The piece he doesn't know exist.

I know what you're thinking -I'm a bitch for never telling him, and you know what, you're right. But I tried. I just couldn't dial the last freaking number. Every year on Xander's birthday I prayed for the courage to call him, but it never came. He was doing amazing things in his life and I know if he knew about his son, he would leave everything he dreamed of to come back. Or, at least, the boy I knew would have. The man before me now, I don't know that he would and that worries me almost as much as him giving it up.

What if he rejects Xander? What if he says he doesn't want to be a part of his life? What if he doesn't love Xander the way Xander loves him?

I first told him about Dimitri, at length, when he was seven. As a baby, I showed him pictures of us together or rocked him to sleep with stories about our love and life before he was born. I doubt that he remembers them, but I wanted him to know that we love him -even if we weren't together.

For his birthday this year -instead of making a wish- he asked me to tell him everything about Dimitri. I couldn't tell him no. I knew the time would come when he wanted to know why his daddy wasn't around. Why he never bothers to call or skype, hell, even write a letter. But the question that broke my heart -shattering it into a million pieces for my son to witness- was when he asked why I still cry when I see his picture.

So I told him everything.

Award me the _mother of the year_ prize, because my son knows that I am the reason his father doesn't know he exists.

He's smart as a whip, just like Dimitri, and understands things he shouldn't at his age. For the most part, I can't complain. He has been an easy kid to raise, but there are things he shouldn't know at the ripe age of nine.

"Rose," I turn to look at him, his eyes soft, loving even, "Where did you just go?"

Clearing my throat, I sit back and take a deep breath, "Just thinking over this week's events."

His brow touches his hairline, "If you're going to lie to me, can you at least try to make it believable?"

"I'm not," I defend my lying self.

He points to my right eye, "Yes you are. I still remember your ticks, Rose." Damn him. Baba always told me I need to learn to control the way my eye twitches when I lie, doesn't make for good negotiations when they can tell you're bull-shiting.

"Tell me this much," he pauses, waiting for me. I wave my hand to say _go-ahead_, "How bad was it when I left?"

"It doesn't matter now, Dimitri," filling my lungs, I breathe back out quickly, "What's done is done. No need to relive that."

"It matters to me, Roza." The way he says my name. The look in his eyes with the fire reflecting in the brown depths. The way his face floods with sadness. _Sweet baby Jesus_. How do I deny that?

His face is hard as stone as I recount the events that occurred after his departure. I tell him everything, minus Xander, but enough truth that he doesn't catch the hidden pieces. When I'm done, he doesn't speak or move. He just stares at me and I can't help but notice the pain in his eyes.

It may sound wrong, but seeing that makes me happy. No, not in the -_ I am glad he feels like shit- _way, but more of the -_I am glad he is feeling something-_ way. He isn't an emotionless robot around me, and even if it's pain he is feeling, it's better than nothing. _Baby steps. _

"Can I ask one more question?" his voice is rough with emotion.

"Sure," I nod softly, resting my cheek on my knee.

"Who was on the phone? And why were you crying?"

"That's two questions," I chuckle, deflecting the worry in my voice, "It was Adrian, and I miss him and home." _Don't twitch. Don't twitch. _

"Are you dating him?" venom laces his words.

"No," I say sternly, "I would never do that to you. We just grew really close after you left." _So close he was with me when Xander was born. In the room and all. We have a really tight bond now if it wasn't obvious by that little detail. _

I can see the wheels turning in his mind, but he doesn't ask any further questions. We sit there for a little while, enjoying the peace and quiet of the country, and I watch the fire ebb and flow with the mid-October night breeze. One thing I remember from my court ordered visits as a kid was how warm it was at night here. Back home we would have three fires going just to keep the house above freezing temperatures and snow would already be falling steadily outside the windows. But here, it's about sixty degrees, but still warm, making for a lovely evening to be spent outside.

Dimitri excuses himself, taking the containers back inside and heading up to bed, and I follow suit, heading into the pool house for a much-needed sleep. We have a full week of events planned so rest is crucial.

As I finish my nightly routine and pull my covers up to my shoulders, with one foot exposed at the bottom, I replay our conversations over dinner.

We weren't awkward once we started talking, much like at the coffee house, we fell back into our old roles easily. I know it will be short-lived, there are many things we have left to discuss. It's as if we are standing on either side of the Grand Canyon, rebuilding the bridge of our relationship. Some things are going to delay the process, but it doesn't mean that we can't keep going. I just hope it's strong enough once we reach the middle.

* * *

"Rose, I am not doing this," Dimitri says as the photographer steps away after briefing the both of us on what she would be doing today.

"Oh," crossing my arms, I jut out my hip, "What did we agree to this morning?"

I knew he wasn't going to be happy once he found out _exactly_ what type of photo shoot I had planned, so I made him agree - contract and all - that he would do whatever I told him to when it comes to saving his ass. I don't play games, I make moves.

I already made over his_ Instagram _and _Facebook_ accounts yesterday -giving him the task of one selfie or post per day, added some old photos from our childhood and his family -_fans love throwback moments_\- and set up a _Twitter _account -_which he didn't even have, can you believe that? _But you better believe he had a _Tinder_ profile - yeah, _had_ \- I deleted it.

"Rose," the way he says my name makes me chuckle. He leans close to me, whispering in my ear, "Did you not hear what they want me to do?"

"Of course I heard." Grabbing his arm -_so not focusing on how damn hard his muscles are- _I lead him to the changing room that Amy, the photographer, said he could use. "Stop being a baby and go." I usher him through the door, dying inside from the giggles I am holding back at the look on his face.

Clutching the white pants to his chest, he stares at me from the middle of the dressing room, ball cap half on his head and pure terror in his chestnut eyes. I wish Amy was here to capture this moment. I would have it printed in poster size and put above the mantle. _Or my bed. _

Wiggling my fingers at him, I shut the door and head back into the studio where Amy and her team are setting up the backdrop and props for the shoot. We're in one of the many skyscraper buildings that flood the Downtown area and I can't help but take in the view of the city from thirty floors up.

Back in Baia, we have a lot of hills so you don't really see much unless you go into the cities - which I only got to do a handful of times when I traveled with Baba. Being here, it's almost as if you are in another world altogether. I don't remember much from when I was little and visiting Janine because she lived in the suburbs, so it wasn't like this.

The way the sunlight glares off the glass exterior of the buildings, making it shimmer, is entrancing. But if I am being honest, I miss home. It's only been five days and I am missing the small town life. Hopefully, once Xander and Dimitri's family arrive things will get easier. I just have to keep reminding myself that this move is what is best for all of us. Even though the girls won't be staying, Mama and Adrian will be so I'll have support there. We all will.

I haven't worked up the nerve to tell Dimitri that we aren't returning to Russia in a few months, but rather we are moving here - _permanently. _It's on my list of things to do before they arrive, but there are a few other things we need to discuss first.

"Rose," I turn from the shimmering windows at the sound of a way too chipper voice. The Author for the book Dimitri is modeling for beams with a bright smile, her honey blonde hair bouncing her shoulders. "It's so nice to meet you, I'm Meredith Crain."

"You as well," I smile and reach out to shake her hand, "Thank you for choosing him."

"How could I not," she fans her face, laughing, "That man is something else. Between the dark hair and eyes, plus his tanned muscular body, _hmmm_. It's hard to find someone who matches up with your characters that well, so when you do, you have to jump on it."

"Understood," I chuckle, "Still, thank you, this is going to be great for his following."

"Yeah, Ash told me a little at dinner last week," she turns to lean against the window, folding her hands in her lap.

"You know Mason?" Crossing my arms over my chest, I try to raise a brow but I know both are touching my hairline.

"Yeah, Eddie is my cousin."

"Huh, he failed to mention that to me," I chew on my bottom lip, is she doing this out of pity?

"Yeah, well, he isn't the best at touching all the bases," she laughs at her pun - since we are in fact here for a baseball-romance cover photo shoot, "but it all worked out in the end. Dimitri is a perfect fit for _Carson._"

I nod, looking back out the window to the cable bridge in the distance. She seems genuinely happy about Dimitri being a good fit for her character, but I would hate to think she is doing this as a favor. It's her work, her brand, and it should be what she wants it to be.

My phone vibrates in my back pocket, a text from Xander telling me he got to make bread with Olena today. He loves cooking with her and is actually pretty good in the kitchen. _He gets that from him._ I smile at the screen, missing him like crazy and tap out a quick reply to tell him good night.

"Your man?" Meredith smiles, nodding toward my phone.

"Oh, no, I don't have a boyfriend," I laugh and look over my shoulder, making sure we're alone, "it's my son," I whisper, turning the phone so she can see his picture on my background, "he's back home with his grandmother."

"Oh," her brows shoot up, "Is he…"

"You didn't tell us he has tattoos," Amy gasp, thankfully cutting off our conversation and pulling our attention to the door.

I open my mouth to say _I-didn't-know,_ but the words stick in my throat as soon as my eyes land on his chest.

Let me rephrase that, _his shirtless chest. _Yes. _Shirtless._

Sweet mother of baby red pandas.

This man is going to be the death of me.

I can't help it. I stare. Yep. No shame. I'm gawking at him.

My tongue slides between my lips, my mouth desert dry at the sight of him. Dark ink runs from his shoulder down his chest, covering his left peck in black lines that form the outline of a bare tree. The branches spread upward toward his collarbone and birds take flight over his shoulder. But that isn't what makes my heart skip a beat and then another. No. That honor goes to what's at the bottom of the tree, laying against the trunk, the silhouette of a guy with a girl straddling his lap. _The detail is insane. _I can see the way she cups his face in her hands, the 'wind' blowing her hair off her shoulders. His arms snake around her waist, holding her tight, and his face is tilted up toward hers.

_Or maybe it's my own memory that makes it so vivid. _

We spent many weekend nights in that exact position under the tree in my backyard. He had once said it was his favorite place in the entire world. And it's tattooed right next to his heart.

Blinking a few times, I break away from the ink to take in the rest of him, tracing the lines of his hard-muscled chest, down to the grooves of his ten-pack -_yeah, ten-pack, I counted-_ that dips into a mouthwatering V, clearly visible by the baseball pants he now wears low on his hips, leaving me yearning to see what lies right below the waistband.

It's official.

I am _so not_ going to be able to do this.

My thighs squeeze together, a desperate attempt to throttle the incessant pounding occurring between them. Lust burns through my veins. Love through my heart. It's not just his body sending shockwaves under my skin, but the picture embedded on his chest gives me a feeling that he never really moved on either.

I don't know if I should be happy or angry about that.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter Ten**_

_**Dimitri**_

* * *

_Hold the bat higher. _

_Turn the glove the other way. _

_Look up. _

_Look down._

_Take the hat off. _

_Put it back on. _

_Bite your lip. _

_Unbutton your pants. _

"Okay," I put both hands up, a glove on one, a bat in the other, "That is where I have to draw the line."

Amy - the red-haired she-devil - rolls her eyes, her camera hanging from one hand while she waves the other in the direction of my nether regions, "I'm not asking you to strip naked or anything, but the readers will be drawn to the cover more if we give them a little_ hint_ as to what lies under the polyester."

I look down at the bulge in my pants -_courtesy of Rose and that short ass dress- _ and back to her, "I'm pretty sure it's obvious."

Rose chokes on her water -_the third bottle she has had since I walked in-_ spitting it out all over the floor. She mumbles a _'sorry'_ behind her hand, her face painted a pretty shade of crimson. I smirk at her, knowing how this whole thing has been getting her hot and bothered too. And probably a little jealous by the way she was glaring at the author when she moaned her approval to my poses.

_This was your idea,_ I mouthed at one point. She only has herself to blame for her current state of arousal. And so do I. Watching her watching me has me harder than a flag pole, hence the volleyball in my pants. It doesn't help that she decided to wear a blood-red low-cut dress that dips so far down in the front I can almost see nipple and stops at mid-thigh. Every time she shifted to cross her legs I envisioned pulling them back apart and burying my face between them.

"Ugh," Amy pinches the bridge of her nose, "Models," she groans and turns to the author, "Do you want more, babe?"

She shakes her head, her blonde hair swaying around her shoulders, "No, I think we're good for the cover, I really liked the back shot," she grins, referring to the one pose where I held the bat across my back, flexing my arm and back muscles.

"That was one of my favorites," Rose nods in agreement.

"His ass looked great, don't you think," Amy joins in.

"_Pfft_, it always looks great," Rose says with a wave of her hand and I puff my chest out at her praise.

The blonde, whose name I never got, raises a hand to high five Rose, "Baseball pants for the win," she yells, slamming her hand to Rose's.

"Baseball pants are to women, what yoga pants are to men," Rose smiles.

"Preach girl," Amy raises her hands toward the ceiling, "Thank you, Lord, for baseball pants."

"Uh," I drag out the two letters, "What is going on right now?"

"Nothing," all three women say at the same time.

"Rose," the blonde stands up, clasping her hands in front of her, a pleading look in her blue eyes, "Would you be willing to do a few couple shots with him? I need some for my blurbs."

"Don't you have someone for that?" she asks, her bottom lip sliding between her teeth.

"Yes, but I can see the chemistry here, plus, you really do look the part for my girl," she pauses, a huge grin taking over her face as she nods toward me, "well, his girl."

I like the sound of that.

Really fucking like it.

Too bad it is the furthest thing from the truth.

"Rose, please," the blonde pleads again, clutching her folded hands to her chest.

I can see the apprehension in Rose's face, so I offer her an out, "She doesn't…" I start, but she cuts me off.

"Okay. I'll do it," she nods confidently, "Is this dress okay or should I run back home and grab something else?"

"No, I have just the thing," the blonde claps her hands, bouncing up and down like Tigger. "Follow me."

Taking Rose's hand, she pulls her back to one of the dressing rooms, leaving me with she-devil who puts me through another dozen poses. Leaning against the wall, looking out a window, squatting with my head down, and so on. Who would have thought it would take so many pictures for a single book release.

Amy's camera continues to shutter with every simple movement I make until it stops suddenly. In the corner of the window, I catch a glimpse of Rose standing in the doorway, her reflection is nothing compared to the sight I see when I turn around.

From the floor, I draw my eyes up, my breath hitching when I see the red high heels she had on earlier still on her feet. Her legs are no longer bare but covered in tight black leggings - which for some ungodly reason turns my body temperature up even more. And when I reach her waist, my breathing stops altogether. Her stomach is bare of fabric. My fingers twitch to run my hands along her smooth skin, to feel her warmth. A white jersey hangs off her shoulders, far too big for her, barely covering her breast that would be open for my viewing if it wasn't for the strapless red lace bra covering them.

_This is a setup. _I saw them talking when I walked in, they planned this. Is she trying to taunt me? Make me regret what I walked away from? _I already do, no need to flaunt it, Rose._ Dragging my hand over my mouth, I continue my survey of her body, landing on her face. Her cheeks are stained pink, but I can tell that it's a natural blush, not the makeup. _She's nervous?_

I step forward, she grips the edge of the jersey, pulling it tight around her stomach. I really wish she wouldn't do that. Not because I want to keep perving, but because I never want her to feel that she is anything less than what she is. Taking her face between my hands, I stare down at her, running my thumb along her jaw, "You are going to be the death of me, Roza," I whisper so only she can hear me.

"At least we're on the same page," she smirks, her face flushing brighter.

"Not even close," I growl, "You are breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking."

Amy breaks our moment to direct us on how to pose. Sadly, she buttons up Rose's jersey for the first few shots. In one, I'm cupping her face, looking at her as if she is the only woman in the world. In another, we're breathing the same air, our lips so close it would take no effort at all to press my mouth to hers, claim her lush lips. The next, we're sitting on the white sheet, Rose tucked to my chest between my legs, my arms wrapped around her stomach.

The next, she's straddling me, just like she used too and the jersey no longer buttoned. _Thank you, Lord._ She rests one hand on my right shoulder, the other over my tattoo, tracing the dark lines next to my collarbone, down the trunk of the tree, to the couple at the bottom, trails of fire following her every move. My skin is burning from her touch. And based on the way her whole body is warming up, I know hers is too from mine.

With my hands on her ribs, I roll my thumbs over her stomach in soft small circles, trying to calm her breathing back down. She winces when I touch a rough spot on her left side. "_So beautiful,_" I whisper in Russian, reassuring her of her beauty.

She's so close _\- so freaking perfect -_ and I want to spend hours worshiping her body. Showing her exactly how perfect I think she is. It takes every bit of self-control I have to not run my hands all over her or pull her closer to my begging cock.

"God," the blonde gasps, "the emotion and tension between you two is so realistic, this is amazing."

_You have no fucking idea, lady. _

My dick is doing an impressive rendition of the Eiffel Tower and I can feel the heat coming from Roza. This isn't playing for us. This is real. And if they don't call it quits soon, I claim no responsibility for what happens next.

"One more," Amy clears her throat, flipping one of the studio lights to a better angle, "Dimitri, lay back for me, prop yourself on your back elbow, and your front hand on her waist," she makes a motion with her hand, and I oblige, the movement makes Rose shift down and I bite back a moan.

"Okay. Now Rose, lean into him. One hand here," she pulls Roza into place, laying her front hand on my chest, "The other there," around my neck, "Dimitri, hold her shirt back with your right hand...beautiful, and let's flip your hair," walking around, Amy makes the last adjustments to Roza's position and appearance. "Perfect," she claps and her camera shutters at rapid intervals.

Rose's tits are an inch from my face, I can see her nipples peaking against the lace fabric, her hair tickles my shoulder and her pussy laying hot and fucking soaked over my cock.

_Holy. Fucking. Hell. _

Hurry up, Amy, for fuck's sake hurry up!

Rose takes a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut and her hips rock over me, my name rolling off her sweet tongue in a husky whisper, "Dimitri."

When she opens her eyes, I'm staring right back at her, drinking in the melted chocolate. Much like on my truck, I can see the fear hiding out in the corners of the brown depths, but there is something else there too, something I haven't seen in a very -_very-_ long time_. _

Lust is evident in her body, but love flourishes in her eyes and I can only pray that mine is showing the same thing. I want her to know that I care, that I never stopped, but I can't say those words. Not yet. This is all too new - too fresh - and I need to work up to that.

"_Roza…_"

"That's a wrap," Amy cheers after snapping the final shot.

Our moment shatters and Rose slings her leg over me, rising to her feet a little dazed. The clack of her heels on the tile echoes through the room, fading out when she heads down the hall. I stay on the floor for a moment, closing my eyes and try to redirect the blood flow away from my dick. My hand finds the way through my hair, which is damp from the heat radiating off my -_and Rose's-_ body. She was so close, so warm and ready, and I can't get that image out of my mind.

_Think of anything, Dimitri. _

_Anything other than Rose. _

_Old ladies. _

_Old ladies with no teeth and saggy tits. _

I shiver at the thought, but the strain in my briefs relieves instantly and I let out a grateful sigh. Jumping back to my feet, I head straight out of the studio and back to the dressing room. I gather my clothes, changing quickly back into my jeans and henley shirt, before slipping on my socks and shoes. I fold the pants they gave me, stack everything on the couch just as my phone pings with a text.

_**Rose: **_Mase called, I'm going to his house for dinner. I'll see you tomorrow for the signing.

_**Dimitri: **_Are you coming home tonight?

_**Rose: **_I think it's best if we have a little space right now.

I hover over the keys, debating on how to play this hand. I could come right out and tell her that I don't want that. Or I can let this moment simmer, give her the space she wants, and start new tomorrow.

_**Dimitri: **_Okay. I'm sorry, Rose.

_**Rose: **_It's not your fault. I should have told her no.

_**Dimitri: **I'm glad you didn't -_ I'm about to hit send when another text comes through.

_**Rose: **_This can't happen, Dimitri. We need to remain professional. Like you said last night, leave the past in the past.

I did say that, but I didn't mean it the way she is taking it.

I don't want to give up on her, not again, but I have to play my cards right this time around. I need to prove to her that I am not the boy who ran away from his family, forgetting where he came from, but rather a man who learned his lessons the hard way. A man who is willing to put in the work to make things right.

_I want her._

I want her beside me when I wake up - when I fall asleep and every single moment in between. I want breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Movies and snuggles. Late night swims and star gazing on the deck.

_I want us._

But it's not just about me. I hurt her, I know I did, so if this is what she wants...then that's what I will give her.

_**Dimitri: **_Is that what you really want?

...

...

_**Rose: **_Yes.

_Heart, meet sledgehammer. _

_**Dimitri: **_Okay.

I hit send and tuck my phone into my pocket, instantly regretting how far things went between us today. I'm not supposed to touch her like that, think of her in that way, and yet, I can't seem to stop. I don't want to stop. For the first time in years, I feel more like my old self, the person I was before I came to America. It's oddly familiar and different, but for once I'm not regretting waking up in the morning. I'm not drowning in a bottle during the day, only enjoying a taste once a night.

I'm fucking happy.

There is only one person responsible for that.

And I just pushed her further away.

Taking the elevator down to the garage, I walk to my truck, typing a number into my phone that I haven't dialed in nine long years. Connecting my phone to the Bluetooth, I pull out of the garage, heading east toward home, and press the dial icon. Taking the first step in fixing my fuck-ups.

"_Privet_," Mama's sleepy voice filters through the phone, my heart slams into my ribs. I try to answer, but I can't seem to talk around the baseball lodged in my throat. She speaks again, drawing my breath short, "Dimka, is that you?"

"Yeah," I choke out, wiping a hand over my face to control my emotions. Though she called me after every game, every birthday and holiday, I hadn't answered a single one of them. I would listen to the voicemails for a few seconds before her voice became too much to hear. But hearing it now, even sleepy and in shock, I can't help the overwhelming comfort flowing over me. "It's me, Mama."

"Are you okay? Is something wrong with Roza," she asks concerned and it warms my heart even more. I love that the two of them are still close. It doesn't make up for my abandoning both of them, but it makes me feel a little better knowing they had each other through the years. I can hear shuffling and the click of a light. "Dimka?"

"Yeah, I just," pausing, I clear my throat, "I just needed to talk to you."

"What is it? Are you sure you're okay?"

Pulling over, because my vision has suddenly gone cloudy, I shift the truck into park, prop my elbow on the center console and rest my head in my hand. "Not really." I pull in a deep breath, "I messed up, Mama - really messed up. With you, the girls, and…"

"Roza," she whispers and I nod, though she can't see me. "Did something happen?"

I tell her about the coffee shop, dinner on the deck, and the photo shoot today. I have always been able to count on my Mama to talk to, even if I haven't taken advantage of it in recent years. Growing up, there were no secrets from her -other than who the girl I was in love with was, but I have a feeling she knew all along. Moms just know those things. But she never mentioned it or called me out for it, which I am grateful for to a point. Maybe if she had, I wouldn't have become the man I am.

The line is silent for several moments and I wonder if I lost her, "Oh my," she laughs. _Laughs! _"I owe Adrian black bread."

"What?" I am pretty sure my eyeballs are on the dashboard, "What are you talking about?"

"I bet it would take a month for her to break you, he bet two weeks, and she did it in one," her laugh grows louder, "Oh the power of true love."

"You bet on this," my voice cracks. I'm not sure if I should laugh with her, because really, my Mama betting on Roza cracking me is quite comical, or if I should be insulted that they bet so little time.

"Dimka, it was only a matter of time before you two reconnected in one way or another. This may not have been the best situation for it, but I have told you since you were a young boy, what your heart desires will always find a way. You and Roza were destined, baby, there is no denying that."

"She hates me," I whisper, "I can see it in her eyes every time we get close."

"She doesn't hate you," she counters in a loving sigh, "She is hurt, but she doesn't hate you."

I drag a hand through my dark hair, resting my head back against the seat. "How do I fix this, Ma? How do I show her that I never stopped thinking about her? That I never stopped loving her?"

"I can not give you that answer," I can hear the smile in her voice, "She is going to fight you at every turn, just don't give up."

"I won't," I say sternly, solidifying the promise. "Thank you, Mama."

"You are most welcome, my son. Now let an old lady get her sleep," she laughs, "I love you, Dimka. All will work out, just have faith."

Faith? I haven't had faith in a really long time. But I don't say that, instead, I smile, "I love you too, Ma. I can't wait to see you."

"Me too, baby. Me too."


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter Eleven**_

_**Dimitri**_

* * *

_Where in the hell is she?_

My knee knocks against the steering wheel of _Rebel _from the nervous bouncing of my leg. I'm sitting in the parking lot of _Whataburger_ where we have the _Rider's Riot_ signing scheduled for today. Normally we only do these types of signings during the season, but with the Series win Coach Tanner decided we needed a few more. As the closing pitcher in the final game, I had to make an appearance - or at least that was Rose's line as to why I needed to be here.

Grabbing my water bottle, I twist the cap off and take two quick swigs, enjoying the taste of _Tito's _sliding down my throat._ Yeah - yeah, I know -sue me_. In my defense, I have barely touched the bottle I bought before Rose moved in. But I couldn't sleep last night, knowing she was over at Ash's and not tucked into bed here, I needed a little something to take the edge off.

After my phone call with Mama, my mind took off at fighter jet speeds, breaking the sound barrier over and over. She says Rose doesn't hate me, which I can believe to a point, but I want to know why. I hate me for leaving her, why doesn't she? It doesn't make sense. I know there is something she isn't telling me, but I don't have the slightest idea as to what it could be. She obviously hasn't moved on. She isn't dating anyone, or at least she has made no indication that she has a significant other. She is still close to my Mama and Adrian but hasn't mentioned my sisters once. Her and Vika used to be attached at the hip, yet, she hasn't spoken a word about her. What happened there? And why is she so close to Adrian? She said my leaving brought them together, but how? If she isn't - or hasn't - dated him, why are they so close now? None of it makes sense. Something happened after I left, and I am going to find out what -even if it kills me to know the truth.

Twisting the top back on, I shove the bottle back into the cup holder and grab a couple of sticks of gum from the center console, popping them in my mouth just as Ash's car pulls into the parking lot.

I stare through the windshield to see if Rose is with him, but I'm too high off the ground to see inside. Pulling into the spot next to me, he kills the engine of his _1969 Mustang_ and climbs out. The passenger door opens and I see Rose's head pop up over the canary yellow roof. Her eyes are covered with thick round black sunglasses, her skin a little paler than normal.

_Is she sick? _

I grab my keys and open my door, hoping down from the truck in a rush, "Rose," I say timidly, rounding the back of the Mustang to stand in front of her, "what's wrong?"

"Someone had a little too much wine with dinner," Ash laughs, propping one arm on the roof, he waves a hand toward her, "I tried to warn her, but it seems someone had a _hard_ day," he shoots me a side-eye - and I don't miss the smirk that counters his glare.

"Can you two not talk so loud?" Rose whispers, "and can we please get inside where it's not so damn bright?"

Nodding my head to Ash, we walk over to the front of my truck, "Why did you let her drink so much?"

"I didn't," he shrugs, "Eddie was the one pouring the glasses."

"Don't make light of this, Ash," I run my hand through my hair, "she is in no condition to be here."

"You want to tell her that," he raises a brow, "I tried, trust me, but if you think you can do better," stepping to the side, he makes a _go-ahead_ motion with his hands, "be my guest."

With a groan, I walk back over to Rose, who is now leaning against the car for support, "Roza…"

"Don't," her hand shoots up, halting my movements, "I don't want to hear it from you right now."

"Babe…"

Pushing off the car, she spins to face me wobbling just slightly and she catches herself on the doorframe. Pushing her glasses up to rest on top of her head, her brown eyes cold as she says, "Stop calling me that. I am not your _Roza_ or _Babe_ anymore, so just stop it."

Blinking, I take a step back, "Rose," I say softly, almost pleadingly.

"No, Dimitri," her head shakes side to side, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world rest right there on her alone, "This," she wags a finger between our bodies, "has to remain professional."

"You certainly didn't mind being unprofessional yesterday," I snap before I can truly process my thoughts. She said the same thing yesterday - and like the idiot I am - I agreed to it.

"That was a mistake," her voice wavers, a tear sneaking out of the corner of her eye, "I shouldn't have done that, but what's done is done."

"Belikov," Coach Tanner yells from the open door of the fast-food chain, "Get in here, _now._"

"Be right there," I yell back, causing Rose to wince at the booming sound. "Rose, please," I drop my voice to a barely audible whisper, "you need to go home. There are going to be a ton of people in there, bright lights, and a lot of noise. Be mad at me all you want about yesterday, but don't do this just to prove a point that you can be professional."

Her bottom lip slips between her teeth and she nods softly, "Thank you," I open the car door, helping her get inside, "get some rest. I'll check on you when I get home."

Closing the door, I hand Ash the house keys, "Take her back to my place, if you can, stay with her till I get done here."

His smile touches his ears, "I will." I turn to head inside, but he calls after me again and I turn back to look at him, "Don't break her heart again," he says softly, "she can't go through that a second time."

"I have no intention of doing so, but she has to let me back in first and I don't know that she will." I'm surprised at how much that admission hurts.

Ash nods, "She will. Trust me."

I open my mouth to ask how he is so sure, but Tanner yells from the door again, "Belikov, do not make me come out there."

"Go, you don't want to piss him off," Ash waves toward the restaurant, "I got her."

"Thanks, Ash," I backpedal toward the door, watching him climb into the driver seat and start up the engine.

I meet fans, take pictures, and sign baseballs, gloves, hats, and jerseys on autopilot. My mind isn't here, it's at home -hopefully laying in bed sleeping off her hangover. I can't be mad about her drinking - _that would be hypocritical _\- but the fact that Ash thought it was okay for her to show up here looking like she is about to vomit everywhere, that I can be mad about.

* * *

I arrive home, thankful to see Ash's car is still in the drive as well as Rose's rental. I need to tell her to take that back. I have three cars, she doesn't need to pay for one when she can drive mine. Parking _Rebel_ in the driveway, I head in through the garage door that connects with the kitchen, finding Ash and another man sitting at the counter. Their hands are linked together, bright smiles gracing their faces. If I had to guess, the other man is Eddie, his partner.

"How did it go," Ash asks, shifting his body to face me.

"Okay," I shrug, "my hands a little cramped but everyone seemed happy, so that's a plus."

"Good," he nods and lays a hand on the other guy's arm, "This is my husband, Eddie, I don't know that you have ever met him."

"Don't believe I have," I reach out to shake his hand.

"Nice to officially meet you, Dimitri," he shakes back firmly, letting go he digs in his pocket, pulling out a set of keys, "these are to Rose's rental, I drove it over when Ash told me what was going on. Sorry for giving her a little too much last night."

"No big deal," I wave him off, taking the keys to hang them up by the garage door. "You on the other hand," I point a finger at Ash.

"What did I do," his brows rise up into his red hair.

"You should have put a foot down and not let her come this morning."

He holds his hands up in surrender, "I tried, man, but you know as well as I do, she is stubborn."

"That I do," a chuckle bubbles in my chest, "but you can make her see reason when needed." Opening the fridge, I grab a _Shinner_ and pop it open, tossing the cap in the trash, and tip my bottle toward the back door, "How is she?" I ask, pulling a quick sip.

"Asleep," Ash answers and points to the bottle, "How many since our meeting?"

"Beers?" I raise a brow and he nods, "I bought them Saturday, there is still two left."

"Not bad," he nods, pursing his lips, "and the vodka?"

Opening the pantry, I pull out the bottle of _Tito's_ and set it on the counter, showing him how much is left- just below the neck. I'll admit, it's been hard to not end my nights with a few drinks as I usually would, but having Rose just outside keeps me from getting shit-faced. God forbid something were to happen and I am not able to help her. It's the only thought keeping me from drinking away the torment my heart is going through.

"And how's your head?" Ash asks.

"Fucked up," I laugh, pulling another long sip from the bottle. Setting it down, I make a seesaw motion with my hands, "I'm cross between wanting to kill you and hug you."

"Why?" he sits up straighter, "What did I do?"

"Really," I arch a brow, staring him down, "You brought a tsunami into my life, I can barely keep my head above the water right now."

"You were drowning before, so that is actually an improvement," Ash laughs and Eddie smacks him on the arm.

"Don't be an ass," he chastises his husband.

"I'm not, I'm being honest," Ash rebukes. Turning back to me, he points a finger, "You can not tell me you aren't already feeling more like the old you? I see it, so does Rose."

"How so?" I roll my eyes, "I have no idea who I am right now."

That's the god-honest truth. Seven days ago, I was depressed, drunk and irritated beyond all measure that my greatest achievement in life was winning a damn game. At one point in time, it was all I ever wanted. But I was a kid then. I didn't know that chasing a dream would cost me my life. I gave up something that could have been forever for something that could be ripped away at any given moment.

Now, I want to let go of everything I have become, and be the man I should have been all along. I want to build a home, a life, a family with the woman sleeping in my pool house. I want to be the man she deserves. However, I don't know if it's my teenage mind or the adult one pulling the strings of the puppet in my head. Or what's going to happen when the curtains close and she goes back to her life.

"Well for one," he ticks off a finger, "you're smiling, I don't remember the last time I saw you even twitch a smile. Two, you're not drinking at seven AM. And three, you simply look better. There are no bags under your eyes and you don't look like your carrying a ton of bricks on your shoulders."

"That's only because she is here," I mumble. Leaning forward onto the counter, I brace both hands on the edge, my head falling forward, "the moment she leaves, everything will go back to the way it was."

"I thought she was staying," Eddie whispers to Ash.

My head snaps up, "What…" I'm cut off by the alarm alerting me to the back door being opened. We fall silent as Rose walks into the kitchen, wearing a shirt that is far too big for her _-and looks oddly familiar-_ with black sleep pants covered in pink flamingos. Her hair is a mess and her face free of makeup.

_God, she is beautiful. _

"Hey," I whisper, walking around the island to stand in front of her, "how are you feeling?"

"Like I have just woken from the dead," she laughs weakly, rubbing the palm of her hand into her eye.

"Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

"No," she drags out the simple word, "I can't even think about that right now."

"You," I chuckle, "you can't think about food?" She whacks me in the stomach and I bend over laughing, "alright, I deserved that."

"Asshole," she mutters and joins Ash at the counter, folding her arms over her stomach and resting her head on the granite countertop. The movement leaves me unsettled, she did the same thing the other night and at the photo shoot. Why does she keep hiding?

"You didn't have to stay." she bumps her shoulder to his.

"I told Dimitri I would," he bumps her back, "besides, Eddie had to drive your rental back."

She nods, covering her mouth she lets out a giant yawn. "God, I feel like I could go back to sleep. What time is it anyway?"

Checking my watch, I say, "Quarter till three."

"Oh," Eddie slaps the table, "we need to get going, we have to check in by five."

"Where are you going?" I flip my gaze between the two men.

"We're headed down to _WinStar_ _Casino _for the weekend. I'm not needed for your meeting with Tanner tomorrow, so we are sneaking off for a little getaway."

"Good, you deserve to take a break," I smile and silently laugh to myself. _I am smiling more often. _

"Yeah, it's nice to get out of Dallas every once in a while," Eddie nods his agreement.

Everyone says their goodbyes and it's just Rose and me left standing in the kitchen. Mentally I prepared for the awkwardness to float in, but it doesn't come. Rose moves around the kitchen, grabs a glass and fills it with water. Downing it quickly, she refills it and takes another sip, "How did the signing go?"

"Pretty well," I shrug. Leaning against the counter, I cross my legs at the ankle, bracing my hands on the edge, "Too bad you missed it. You might have like to see me being adored by all those fans."

"Oh, yes, damn shame," she rolls her eyes and I laugh.

"Hey, that's what we all wanted right? I even posted a selfie with one of them on IG as you asked."

"Good job," she pats my arm and jumps up onto the counter beside me. Her hands lay in her lap and she picks at her nails, a nervous tick she has had for as long as I can remember, "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

I push off the counter and stand in front of her, with one hand I grab her chin, the other her hands, stopping her from picking at her nails to the point of bleeding. Tilting her face up to look her in the eye, "Why?"

"Because it's my job.."

"No, Rose," I cut her off. Licking my lips, I drop my voice to a whisper, "why did you drink so much?"

"Why do you," she counters, her eyes smoldering with a new fire.

"To forget, simple as that," my answer doesn't seem to please her.

"What do you need to forget, Dimitri, you have everything you ever wanted," her arms span out, "look at you, you made it. You're living your dream."

"Not everything," I bite out and take a step closer to her, tucking myself between her legs.

"Professional," she grinds her teeth over the word.

I want to laugh at her pitiful attempts, but I keep the sound locking inside my chest. Between Mama, Ash, and the look in her eyes whenever I mesh our bodies closer, I know she wants this as much as I do. She just refuses to accept and embrace the connection we still share. I get it, I really do. I hurt her and I know she fears I will again, but I have to prove to her that I won't. She is my person, bonded to my very soul, and I can't lose it again. Not when I just got her back.

I step closer, cutting the space between our hips in half, "We're at home, fuck being professional."

"You said…"

"I know what I said," I bite back, cutting her off, "I said I want to leave our past behind us. I never said I didn't want to think about the future."

Her breath hitches in her throat, chocolate eyes melt just for me, "What future?"

Doing as Mama said, I take a leap of faith, "The one where you stay here," I twist a stray lock of hair around my finger and tuck it behind her ear, "with me."

Swallowing, she draws a deep breath, holding it while she asks, "What if I don't want that?"

"Then I would walk away." I hope she hears the amount of pain that statement causes me.

She nods, pursing her lips, "You're pretty good at that."

"So you keep telling me," I roll my eyes, dropping my chin to my chest I tighten my grip on her thighs, "but you have to know Rose, it was the worst mistake of my life."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. I have seen the _Hathaway _wrath only a handful of times in my life, but I recall them all with perfect clarity. And I know the signs as to when that side of her is on the verge of breaking free. Her upper lip twitches into a sneer and her body go rigid, a crimson flush rises from her neck to fill her face. _Three. Two. One._

"Don't." She shoves at my chest and I back up, "Don't do that." Jumping down, she stalks toward me, poking me in the stomach with one angry finger, "_You_ made your choices. You don't get to pull that card."

"It's not a card," I run my hand through my dark hair, pulling at the roots in the back, "It's the fucking truth, Rose." I mimic her earlier move, spanning my arms wide, adding a spin for dramatics, because, why not? "None of this means shit to me. You are what I have been missing. You are what I have spent years trying to forget."

"Oh, so I'm the reason you became a drunk?" she stabs a finger into her sternum, face flaming red with fury.

"What? No!" I shake my head, trying to scramble a million thoughts into coherent sentences. "Fuck, Rose, how can you think that?"

"Because it's what you just said," she yells so loud I'm surprised the windows are still intact.

_She's right. _"Ugh," I groan at the voice in my head. This has taken a very wrong turn, and the only way I know to correct our direction is to cut myself open.

"I didn't mean it that way." Filling my lungs, I let out a slow ribbon of air, slicing my chest wide open to confess everything my heart has felt in the last ten years. "I meant that none of this means anything because you weren't here to share it with me. I went out to try and forget the shit life I live because I fucked up. I walked away from the only person who ever made me truly happy. I drink because I hate myself for the choices I made and I want to forget the damage I caused. I drink because I want to forget the pain I put you and my family through by leaving. I drink because I hate my fucking life." With every _'I'_ said, I knock my fist against my sternum, punishing my body as much as my mind with each confession. Gripping the counter with one hand, my breaths come in fast and heavy, my heart on display for her.

"This," I draw a circle with my finger, my voice dropping into a throaty whisper, "this isn't a dream, it's a goddamn nightmare, Roza, and I only have myself to blame for it." Sliding to the floor, I press my back against the cabinets, prop my elbows on my bent knees, fist my hands through my hair, and do something I don't do very often.

I cry.

Not like the silent tears, I shed in Ash's office when he told me about Babushka. Or the nights in my dorm room when I first moved to Texas. No. This is a full ugly cry, your favorite character just got killed out of the blue, ugly cry.

Admitting that - to her of all people - felt like open heart surgery -_minus the morphine-_ and then having salt water dumped into the wound. I tore open my heart, bared my soul, let down every single guard I have. _See me, Roza. See that I still love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you. See me. _

I feel her kneel in front of me, but I don't open my eyes, not yet. Her slim fingers work through my hair, prying my hands from my head. She doesn't let go once they are free, instead, she links her fingers through mine, resting them between our bodies and my legs. The simple action sends calming tendrils through my body, allowing me to slow my breathing to a normal rate.

Blinking a few times, I clear my eyes to look at our connection. Her thumbs rub soft circles over my knuckles and I squeeze her hands letting her know how much I appreciate her being here.

"Step one, Comrade," my eyes snap to hers at the use of my old nickname. Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, unlike me, she managed to keep her's from spilling over, "rest on rock bottom."

A weak smile pulls at my lips, "I thought step one was admitting your powerless to your addiction."

She shakes her head softly, her wild waves crashing over her shoulders with the movement, "Maybe in a group, but not here." She reaches up to wipe my face clean and I grab her wrist, holding her hand against my cheek, loving the feel of her soft flesh, the beat of her pulse under my fingertips.

"Am I getting the Rose Mazur AA treatment?"

"In a way," she mumbles, "someone once told me, '_we have to rest on rock bottom before we can learn to rebuild our lives with the bricks that were thrown at us'._"

"Who said that," I let her hand fall back to our laps, linking my fingers through hers once more.

"Babushka," her smile reaches her ears as she recalls the memory, her eyes locking to mine, "One night I was at your house with her and Mama, she told me that I reached my rock bottom, I couldn't go any further down, and it was time for me to learn to build my life with the bricks around me."

"She was a smart woman," I say sadly, hating that I missed out on the last years of her life. "What happened to her?"

Her shoulders lift, "She just grew old, Dimitri. She lived a wonderful life and had all of us around when the time came."

"I should have been there," turning my head, I wipe my nose on my shoulder.

"It wouldn't have changed anything, Comrade." Leaning back, she turns her face toward the ceiling, blinking back her tears. "It was her time, that's all, don't beat yourself up over something you couldn't control."

"I miss her. I've missed all of you, but it's different with her." Her head tilts to the side, so I explain, "I've always known you all were back home, safe and hopefully happy, it kept me going thinking that you were all better off without me there. But now that I know she isn't, it's like, I miss her more." my shoulders feel lighter when they rise to touch my ears, "I don't know, maybe it's stupid."

"It's not, I understand. But, to warn you, we were not better off without you, and when your sisters arrive be prepared for them to express that." She laughs, but it's not funny. Knowing my sisters, I am in for one hell of a lashing and slap to the face marathon.

"Why aren't you mad at me?" I need to know, I need to understand why, of all people, she doesn't hate me. I would if I was her. "Why don't _you_ hate me for leaving?" She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, gnawing on the soft flesh. Using my thumb, I pull the innocent lip from the cage, stroking it softly, "Tell me, Roza."

We're centimeters apart, when and how we got this close I don't know, but I am not going to complain. I feel whole with her next to me. She is my missing piece. From the moment I felt her walk into Ash's office, my whole life changed. Her presence alone filled the void that had been taking over my heart. And over the last few days, every little moment we share heals the wounds of our past; her smart mouth and wit, beauty and love, comfort and support, and even the demanding edge of her 'professional' side.

And I don't want to lose that, not now, not ever again. She owns me, always has - always will, if only she will break down her walls and let me own her too.

Her heart, mind, and soul.

Her forehead touches mine, heavy breaths fill the small space. She looks at me with hooded eyes, her words confirming what the brown depths have been telling me, "How can I hate you when I'm still in love with you."

My stomach flips.

My heart burst free from my chest.

And my desire shoots through the stratosphere.

My thumb rolls over her bottom lip and I tilt my head back, bringing our mouths closer together, "You have five seconds to tell me to stop, Roza," I whisper, my lips so close to hers, "because the moment my lips touch yours, it's game on."

She shivers under my touch and licks her lips. I do the same, dying to taste her sweet mouth. "Rose," her name climbs up deep from my throat, "two seconds."

* * *

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	12. Chapter 12

_**Chapter Twelve**_

_**Rose**_

* * *

Well, this has escalated quickly.

I'll be honest with you, last night, after my second or fifth glass -_I lost count -_ I went to bed dreaming of this, well something like this. Dimitri hovering over me, skin to skin - slick with sweat, filling me in all the right ways, and every inhibition in my way floating free out the window. And I may or may not have gotten myself off in Mason's guest room to the images.

_Don't tell Mason that though._ _I'll never hear the end of it. _

Being so close to him at the photoshoot, I was transported back in time to the nights we spent together. Everything from the love we made, to the moonlight conversations, and the good morning kisses. And that tattoo...I couldn't take my eyes off of it - _or my fingers_.

Now, with that being said, when I woke up, I swore to myself that I had worked him out of my system. I was going to be strong and _not_ fall for him like my teenage self. _Who the hell was I kidding? _Myself, that's who. I should have known better than to think I can withstand him. Even if I had the power before he tore his heart open, I wouldn't have had an ounce afterward.

When the first tear escaped his eye, every single brick shattered to the ground. There was no more one by one that had been happening over the last few days, but rather a _Miley Cyrus_ moment - straight came in like a wrecking ball. And each confession cleared the plume of dust, shining new light on the man he has become.

He opened his heart, his soul to me, and I can't deny the amount of pride I feel for him. I understand how difficult it can be to confess your demons, but he did it with me. He wanted me to see him for what he has become, the real him, not the person the media plays him out to be. He may have messed up -and messed around- but I can see the truth. Not only by the look in his eyes, but I feel it in the way he is holding me right now. Holding himself back, giving me the chance to back out if I wanted to; by the tattoo painted on his chest and the feel of his heart beating under my palm.

He still loves me too. I doubt he ever stopped.

Does knowing that make up for the way he left? No.

Does it wash away all the other women who have been with him? No.

Does it make my heart skip a beat, and then another, to know that despite his actions over the years, he still loves _me?_ Hell yes.

"Rose." My name rolls from his lips in a sexy growl, hovering in the air between us.

_Don't stop. _

_Hold me. _

_Touch me. _

_Kiss me. _

_Fuck me. _

"Stop."

The word slips past my lips even though my body is ready for him to do everything his eyes are begging to do. I want him. God - do I want him. But I can't. I can't be with him in that way until he knows the truth.

He blinks rapidly, pulling his forehead away from mine and leans back to rest his head on the cabinet, showing the restraint he has always had. I can recount numerous times where he had to pull himself back, both in times of anger and lust. I am glad he hasn't lost that quality. It is something he will need in the coming week, months and years even.

I sit back on my heels, dropping my hands into my lap, "I'm sorry," I say, picking at my nails.

"Don't be," he whispers, tension clear in the gravel rasp of his voice. He licks his lips, swallowing deeply, "Just be honest with me, Rose."

"About what?" _Pick. Pick. Pick. _

"Everything," he lifts his arms only to drop them defeated beside him. Opening his eyes, he locks onto me, raw emotion swirling deep in his chestnut irises, "I know you're scared, I am too, but I can't fix what you won't tell me."

_Pick. Pick. Pick. _"What do you mean?"

"You lied," I shiver at the depth of his tone, "The other night on the deck. You lied. You didn't tell me everything that happened when I left. I could tell you were leaving information out, but I want you to be comfortable and tell me when you are ready. I don't want to push you into talking to me." he drags a hand through his hair, "But, I'm lost here, Rose. Your actions aren't matching your words."

"I know," dropping my hands to my side, I shift to sit against the fridge across from him. Pulling my knees up, I wrap my arms around them, putting as much of a physical barrier between us as possible. "It's just not that simple," I chew on the inside of my cheek.

He mirrors my position, his voice tender as he says, "It can be. Just talk to me, Roza, like old times. Just you and me sitting out back under the tree."

I wish he was right. I wish I could be a kid again - hiding out in the backyard away from our parents and his siblings. No walls. No barriers. Just us. I wish I could open myself back up, but I have spent an entire decade -and then some- keeping myself from growing close to anyone. Yes, I have been close to Olena and Adrian, but there has not been anyone new to come into my life. It's too painful to continually open your heart to people just to have them leave you in the end. Intentionally or not. Everyone walks away at some point, so to me, there is no point in letting them in - in the first place.

With Dimitri, though, it's different. He was already in and I can't kick him out. I don't want to. Not only for Xander but for me. I want that sense of security again. The love of another human. _Love from him_.

Yes. I'll admit it. I want him. Not just the sexual aspect,_ that much is obvious,_ but in the emotional one. I want to confide in him with the good and the bad. I want him to be the one to hold me through the dark days and walk beside me in the bright ones. I want it all. Day and night. Love and Lust. Home and family. Now until forever.

"There you go again," he slides across the floor to sit beside me, bumping his shoulder to mine, "Where do you keep going, Roza?"

"Anywhere but here," I mumble into the space between my legs and chest. _Deep breath, Rose. _I lift my head, "There is a lot I have to tell you, but I think we have been through enough emotions today."

"You can't say something like that and then deflect," he brings his hands down to slap his thighs, "But, I'm not going to force you to open up to me. You know me better than that."

_I thought I did. _But the boy I remember wouldn't have done the things this man has. The boy I remember held me when I cried, drying my eyes with tender kisses. He protected me from bad thoughts - now he is the reason for a lot of them. He was my best friend. My one true confidant. The love of my life. My Comrade.

However, when I think about it, maybe that boy and this man aren't so different. With every minute, every interaction and conversation, I see that boy again. The old him. And I'm not ready to lose that just yet. The moment I tell him about Xander, this fantasy world we are living in will fade to black and reality will set in. He is going to hate me.

And to quote his earlier words, '_I only have myself to blame.'_

"What do you have planned for tonight," Dimitri's cool tone pulls my attention back to him.

"Nothing, why?"

He shifts to his feet, reaching a hand out to help me up, "Go take a shower, I'm taking you to dinner."

* * *

When he said dinner, I figured we would go to a decent restaurant, not a four-star steak house complete with white tablecloths, men in suits, women in dresses that should not be allowed in public, and a violinist playing in the corner. The amount of money he is paying honestly churns my stomach. The cheapest plate on the menu is forty dollars -not including the one hundred dollar bottle of wine, he insisted on getting. It's insane to me that anyone would spend this kind of money on a simple dinner, no matter how delicious it is. But I guess when your bank account looks like a phone number, the cost doesn't matter.

"So, you know everything I have been up to, why don't you tell me about you," Dimitri asks, cutting into the 'cowboy cut' _\- sixteen ounces, guys, sixteen -_ steak he ordered.

For the last half hour, we enjoyed the many slices of bread and wine, but now that the meal has arrived, he wants to get down to the nitty-gritty. Placing my napkin in my lap, I smooth it out, buying myself a few extra seconds to prepare for questioning.

"What exactly do you want to know?" I ask, cutting a small piece of my steak, popping the rare meat into my mouth. It melts on my tongue and I give it up to the grill master in the back. _Amazing._

"Why marketing? I thought you were going to take over for your Dad?"

_Chew. Chew. Sip._ "Yeah, that was the plan, but I wanted a degree just in case things didn't work out. Good thing too, he sold his business last year."

He stops cutting, his fork clacking against his plate, "Why?"

"_Guardian Nation,_" I mumble.

"Ah," he nods, already knowing the reputation those guys have, "Dashkov got him. Damn shame."

"Yeah, he and Pavel moved to Italy after the whole thing went belly up and are living their best life now. He's happy, so I'm happy." I shrug, taking another sip of wine, "Besides, after high school, I didn't want to work for him anymore. Too much traveling."

"But I thought you wanted to travel," his eyes searching mine, looking for the reasoning behind my change of heart.

"Yeah, well sometimes you have to make sacrifices," I snip a little too harshly.

It was more than just Xander that kept me at home. When Yeva started fading Mama needed help with her. Vika had taken off for Uni, and Karo and Sonja were living in St. Petersburg. Adrian and I were the only people left to help Olena, so we took turns between Yeva and Xander. It wasn't easy, but we managed the best we could.

"You're right," clearing his throat, he locks his eyes to mine, "I'm sorry."

"For?" I prompt.

"Where do you want me to start," he chuckles, setting his fork and knife on the table, he leans back and scratches his chest, "I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry for not being there when Babushka passed. I'm sorry for not trying harder to keep in contact with everyone. For making the mistakes I did that brought you here now. Do you want me to keep going?"

"No," I focus back on my plate, cutting another strip into bite-sized pieces, "I think we're good on the apologies."

I have a list of things I need to apologize for too, but until I tell him everything, they don't mean much. I'd rather not listen to him continue to make amends for his choices when I have yet to face mine.

"Okay, then," he pops another bite in his mouth, smiling as he chews and swallows, "So, are you still living in Baia, or did you move to the city?"

"Uh, I just sold the house in Baia," I keep my head down, "and I'm looking to buy a house here."

"Are you being serious," he asks slowly, almost cautiously.

"Yes. Mason hired me as your full-time publicist." And once the season starts, I will be working under Coach Tanner as the team marketing manager, but I'll save that bit of information for later. I don't want to throw too much at him at once, he needs time to process bit by bit.

"So, you're staying," a boyish grin spreads across his face.

"Yes, Dimitri, I'm staying," I match his smile.

He leans forward with an accusing stare, "You're lying."

"Nope," I laugh, popping the _p_, pointing to my eye, "I'm not twitching."

Leaning back, he slaps his hands on his thighs, laughing, "Well…"

"_Oh. My. God._" a high pitched squeal cuts him off, "_Dimitri Belikov_, I thought that was you," the raven-haired woman smacks him on the shoulder with a flirty grin, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "How have you been, baby?"

I give her a once over, taking in the scrap of clothing that barely covers her lady bits. The front of her dress dips so low I am positive that I can see her belly button, the hem so high that if she breathes too deep the restaurant could add fish to the night special. _Why do women think that look is cute? _

Rolling my eyes, I shift my focus to Dimitri, who is not happy with the interruption. His jaw ticks with every breath and when he speaks, I shiver at the depth of his tone. I haven't heard that sound in a very long time, but it's one I place easily, "What do you want?"

"Oh, come on, you're not still salty are you," she pokes at him again, a pout playing on her lips. "It was just a harmless joke, no one got hurt."

Dimitri squeezes his eyes closed and his nostrils flare with a deep breath, "You need to leave."

Her pouty lip thins into a wicked grin, but I step in before she can say anything, seeing the signs that she doesn't realize what kind of fire she is playing with, "Excuse me," I say sweetly, waving a hand, "Hi, yeah, if you don't mind, we're trying to enjoy dinner, so please," I make a _move-along _motion.

"What are you, the charity case?" She snips, "The adults are talking little girl, best be quiet and mind your manners."

My jaw slams against the table ...no wait...that was Dimitri's hand. Silverware clatters and my glass tips over, spilling red wine onto the tablecloth and my dress.

"Shit," I mutter, shoving myself back from the table.

"Roza," Dimitri comes to my side quickly, dabbing at my thighs with his napkin. "I'm sorry, babe."

"It's okay," I whisper, grabbing his chin, I make him look at me. His eyes are still darker than normal, but not as bad as the last time, "It's okay, Comrade. Let's just go."

I look up to see the raven-haired woman has left, and everyone else is staring at us, a few even have their phones out, recording the spectacle. _Great. _I'll have to do some damage control there later.

Our waitress brings the check, he pays, and we leave the restaurant with half of our dinner still sitting on the table.

I stay silent in the truck, not wanting to aggravate him by saying or asking the wrong thing. He settled down a bit once we pulled out of the parking lot, but his shoulders are still tense, eyes roaming everywhere like he expects someone is following us. I want to ask who the woman was and why he was so angry, but I think I know the answer.

"Do you want to go home?" his voice is hard but not angry, he almost sounds… disappointed, maybe?

I turn to look out the windshield, noticing for the first time we aren't headed in the direction of the house. Instead, he is directing us further into the city. Laying a hand on his arm, I smile, "I'm up for anything, what do you have in mind?"

* * *

"I still can't believe it some days," I say, stirring the melted reminisce of my ice cream.

We're sitting on the wall behind the bullpen at the _Rider's_ stadium. It's surreal to see the field, the lights -_even if they are off_\- and stands. I can picture them filled with screaming fans, the game playing out on the field, the smell of popcorn and bar-b-que smoke.

"Believe what?" Setting his empty container on the floor, he turns to face me, one leg hanging over the edge, the other stretching out behind me.

"That you did it," I wave a hand toward the field, "I've watched you play hundreds of games over the years and it's still crazy to think you're this big star now."

"I'm still the same guy," his hand moves to my back, resting in the hollow at the base of my spine. "I may have a huge house and money, but I'm still the same boy from little old Baia."

Setting my ice cream down, I turn to press my back to his chest, bringing his hand around to rest on my stomach, "You are, but you aren't, Comrade."

He pulls me tighter to him, rubbing his thumb in soft circles, "I know, but I like to think he is still in there somewhere."

"He is," I smile, turning my face to see his over my shoulder, "like right now, I can see that boy again, and earlier at the house and dinner, but at the same time, you're completely different." I lift one arm, cutting it through the air, "This turned you into a man with many demons - far more than you had before."

"That it did," he nods against my shoulder.

"It's not a bad thing," I shrug in his arms, "You grew up, learned lessons, and made a life."

"That's a lie," he mumbles pressing his lips to my shoulder. "I made a living, not a life."

I don't know that I have ever heard truer words. Most people think making a living is creating a life, but Dimitri is right, it's two different things. To make a living, you work, provide for yourself and your family. But to make a life, that is enjoying the little details of every single day. Everything from the change of colors in the sky as the sun rises and sets, to the activities you do to make memories with those you spend each day providing for.

"To quote _George Strait,_" he says in a sexy southern accent, "_Life not the breaths you take, but the moments that take your breath away._"

"I'm pretty sure someone else said that before him," I laugh.

"Probably, but he says it best." His chest rumbles against my back with a deep hum. "_Life's not the breath you take, the breathing in and out, that gets you through the day. Ain't what it's all about. __You just might miss the point. If you don't slow down the pace. Life's not the breathes you take, but the moments that take your breath away." _

Right now. Right now is one of those moments. Hearing the deep rasp of his voice as he sings takes every stitch of air from my lungs. It's warm, loving, and so damn sexy I can't breathe. Goosebumps rise along my arms, making me shiver when the night breeze floats over us.

His lips brush against my neck, "Are you cold?"

"No," I whisper and lick my lips, "I'm happy."

His arms flex with a sweet hug, his chin falling to rest on my shoulder. I lean my head back on his, breathing in the late evening air and watch the last signs of daylight fade to black over the top of the stadium seating. The sounds of the city echoes around us, car horns, sirens, and music from the event center across the street, but none of it breaks through the peace I feel at this moment.

_Tell him, Rose. You need to tell him, _my heart pleads alongside my mind. Finally, the two are on the same page. The only problem is, how do I say it? Do I just blurt it out, '_Hey, by the way, you have a nine-year-old son I never told you about.' _Or do I ease into the conversation, asking if he ever sees himself settling down with a family? Or should I ask him how he feels about me, gauge his reaction based on where his heart is right now.

_Ugh! _I really should have just dialed that last freaking number ten years ago when I found out. To be quite honest, I never thought I would see him again. I'm not saying that justifies it, but it is the excuse I have clung to for so long. Plus the fear of Dimitri rejecting Xander. Either way, I know I am wrong for not telling him. I know I am to blame for being in this position now.

"Can I ask you something," he sighs into my hair.

_Distraction. Yes. Thank you. _I turn my face to him, drinking in the dark pools, "Of course."

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

Not quite the distraction I had in mind.

"Sure," I nod, mentally facepalming myself.

It's just sleeping, though. One night. Nothing is going to happen.

Right?

_Yeah, I'll take personal torture for two-hundred, Alex. _

I head to the pool house as soon as he parks the truck, locating my most unattractive night clothes possible - sweat pants and one of his old school T-shirts that has seen far better days. Once changed I take a backward walk of shame to the main house, pausing only three times questioning why in the hell I agreed to stay in his room for the night. Maybe because I know his heart went through the meat grinder today. Or the fact that I feel guilty as hell for everything I have kept from him and feel that I should give him just a little bit of comfort before destroying what is left of his mind.

Either way you look at it, I'm in for one hell of a long night.

His door is open, so I stop in the hall, "Are you decent?"

"Yes, Rose." I can almost hear his eyes rolling.

He lays on the right side, closest to the door, one hand behind his head, the other holding a worn copy of _Lonesome Dove_, sans shirt with blue and black plaid pajama pants covering his lower half.

_Make that personal torture for one-thousand, Alex. _

I sit down on the left side, twisting my hair up into a messy bun for the night and plug my phone into the charger beside the bed. "Haven't you read that like a million times," I wave a hand toward the brown leather in his hands, hoping to settle the anxiety riddling my veins, as I climb under the covers.

"A million and one," he shrugs, keeping his eyes on the page, "it's a classic, you can never read it too many times." He turns the page, replacing his hand behind his head.

"You and your westerns," I laugh, shimming myself to lay down.

"Hey, you have your obsessions and I have mine," he slips his mark in between the pages, laying the frayed leather on the nightstand and presses a button on the wall to turn off the lights. Slipping under the covers, he folds both hands behind his head, "Goodnight, Roza."

"Night, Comrade."

_Eleven PM. _

_Midnight. _

_One AM. _

Dear Lord.

No matter which way I lay, what side I favor, or how far I stick my foot out from under the covers, I can not get comfortable enough to fall asleep. Dimitri, on the other hand, hasn't moved a muscle. His hands are still parked behind his head and a small smile plays on his lips.

Lifting the covers, I slide closer to him, but not quite touching any part of his body. I feel a bit like a creeper watching him sleep, but it's kind of cute. His face is free of worry lines and pain, almost boyish under the silver shine of the moon peeking through the top of the windows. It's warming to see him so at peace, yet heartbreaking to recall the last time we shared a bed.

The night before he left.

Baba had taken an overnight trip with Pavel to Omsk to talk with a few investors. Like many times before, Dimitri told Mama he was staying with Neil - a friend from school - and stayed with me. He cooked my favorite meal, we watched half a dozen movies and spent the night wrapped around each other.

I wasn't surprised to wake up to an empty bed, he always left before I woke up and headed home. I would go over later and spend the day with Vika. It was our routine, a way of making sure we stayed far enough under the radar. Until the truth about Xander came out, Vika, Karo, and Sonja were none the wiser. Mama and Yeva, those two knew everything but said nothing, which I was thankful for. I'm pretty sure Adrian knew too, but like Mama, he kept my secrets until it was time not to keep them anymore.

When I arrived at the house that afternoon, Dimitri wasn't home. I went upstairs to check his room, finding it torn apart as if he was searching for something. I knew then that something was wrong. He was a control freak back then. He hung his clothes up by color and style, his books were always kept in alphabetical order, and his bed made with military precision every morning. I called and texted a million times, but he didn't answer a single one. Four hours later, he called Mama to tell her what happened. He received a phone call he had been waiting for and took the first flight out of Russia he could get.

No, _goodbye_. No,_ I love you_. No, _I'll come back_. Nothing.

_I was so angry at you, Dimitri. So angry. I wanted to hate you. I wanted to forget you ever existed. But I couldn't. You gave me the greatest gift I have ever been given. And for that, I will always love you. And so does he. _

_Alexander Dimitri Belikov-Mazur. Your son. _


	13. Chapter 13

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

_**Dimitri**_

* * *

Waking up with Rose tucked tightly to my chest is the best feeling in the entire world.

True fact. You can google it.

I don't know how I went so long without her.

When she laid down, she stayed a good two feet away from me, but at some point during the night, she closed the gap. Her head lays on my chest, one arm curled to my side, the other across my chest where her hand rests over my tattoo.

Contrary to popular belief, I never spent the night with the women I took to the hotel. We did the deed and she left. Spending an entire night with someone was never something I was interested in. To me, that means that there will be coffee and breakfast, or exchange of phone numbers and another hook-up down the road. To sleep beside someone all night, cuddled together, and deal with their morning personality, is something you do when you actually like the person beside you.

Rose is the only woman I have ever slept through the night with - and if I have it my way, she will forever be the only one.

My fingers trail down her spine - which is unfortunately covered with my old T-shirt that I'm shocked to know she still has- my other hand tucked behind my head as I replay our conversations from yesterday.

The first thing that stands out in my mind is that she is moving here. Remember how I said I wasn't naive enough to believe her staying here was to be close to me...well, I am retracting that statement. Because after seeing and talking to her, I am certain it has everything to do with being with me.

Okay, more like ninety-nine point nine percent certain. There is still the point zero-one percent in the back of my mind that questions her true motive here. She says it's because Ash hired her as my publicist - which yes that is true - however, after our conversation in the kitchen I know it's more than a job. She said some things that have planted a tiny seeds in the back of my mind, '_There is a lot I have to tell you.' _And then during dinner, _ 'Sometimes you have to make sacrifices.' _What made her choose between working with her Dad - following her dreams or staying in Baia?

And lastly, the dream I had last night.

I have never been one to think dreams are real or are some type of premonition of what is to come in your life. It's simply your mind playing tricks on you while it's unguarded at night. Showing you your deepest desires or greatest fears in a way that you can't run away from. But when I tell you that what I saw left me feeling empty inside this morning, I am not exaggerating. There is this hollow spot in my heart that wasn't there before, at least not that I acknowledged or felt with this much intensity.

And tonight, I am going to find out exactly what she is keeping from me. I have let down my walls for her, it's time she does the same for me.

Rose stirs in my arms, her breathing shifts and her legs start to rub together. I push my thoughts to the side, enjoying the little moment I get to share with her right now. I don't know how long it will last, or what tonight will bring, so I am going to soak up as much of this as I can.

Running my knuckles along her spine, "Good morning, Beautiful," I whisper, pressing a kiss to her hair.

She hums in my arms, snuggling closer, "Good morning, Comrade."

I can't help it, my smile takes over my face, the room growing brighter. I love hearing that nickname roll off her tongue. When she first started calling me that - I was about fifteen - I hated it. Out of all the words she could choose from, _Comrade, _was the one that stuck. _Friend_. I never wanted to be her friend- scratch that, back up a few seconds - I do want to be her friend -best friend- and lover. Most importantly, I want to be her fucking forever.

"You want to shower first?" I say, grazing my knuckles down her spine.

"I'll shower in the pool house, all my clothes are in there," she rolls from my side.

I shift to hover over her, dropping my forehead to hers, "Thank you for staying with me."

"I should be thanking you, this bed is amazing," she laughs, running her hand over the sheets.

"With you in it, I have to agree." I brush my lips to her forehead, "best sleep I have had in years."

Her lip slides between her teeth, "How many," she mumbles so low I almost don't catch the question.

"How many, what?" I lift a little, looking into her eyes.

"How many women have been in this bed," she asks, loud and clear this time.

I'm not surprised by her question, I knew it would come sooner or later. She knows of my reputation, the number of women I have worked through over the years.

"One," I say sternly, never taking my eyes off hers, "You. I have never brought a woman into my house, Rose."

"Okay," her cheeks turn a cute shade of pink.

I want to ask how many men she has had in hers, but I'll wait until tonight. Air all of the dirty laundry at once.

I drop a quick kiss to her forehead and roll off of her, scooting myself out of bed. I feel her eyes on me as I move around, pulling a blue button-down and slacks out of the closet. I don't say anything as I head into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. Turning on the shower, I set the temperature and let it warm, brushing my teeth and trimming my short beard while I wait.

We have our meeting with Coach Tanner, my team manager, at Ten AM and I am looking forward to it. The _Rider's Rookie_ Camp was something I enjoyed when I was first called up. It's designed to help kids, from ages two to seventeen, hone their skills and determination for the game. Most of the little ones are simply there because their parents want something for them to do over the holidays. But the older kids want to be there. They are the ones who want to pursue careers in the game. I hope I get put into the fourteen to seventeen-year-old group. Either way, I'll be happy to help.

_Huh, never thought I would say that. _

Do you see what she is doing to me? This girl -_excuse me, woman- _is turning my world upside down. Left is right and right is left with her here. Nothing makes sense, yet everything is completely clear. She has shattered my walls, destroyed my shields, and taken over my mind.

She is still fighting to open up, but I can tell she wants too. She doesn't want to keep whatever it is that is eating her inside much longer. I just know she is trying to figure out the right time and way to do it. She needs to know that I am not going to run from whatever it is. _I have no plans of running anywhere, Roza. _I'm man enough now to know the difference in momentary and forever.

I have learned my lesson and I plan on acing the exam.

* * *

Pace the hall.

Check my watch.

Adjust my tie.

Repeat.

Rose has been in Tanner's office for almost half an hour now, discussing God only knows what. I thought today's meeting was simply to talk about the camp at the end of November, but apparently, those two are reading a different sheet of music.

_I can hear laughing though, that's a good sign, right?_

The door squeaks and Rose pops her head out, looking for me, "We're ready for you," she smiles.

I step toward her, dragging a hand through my hair, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," she steps back, opening the door wider for me to enter.

Tanner stands in the corner, pouring himself a cup of coffee, "Morning, Belikov," he calls over his shoulder, sticking a stirrer into the cup. "Would you like one?" he asks turning to face me.

"No, thank you, Sir."

"Alright then, take a seat." He waves his hand toward the couch, not the highbacks across from his desk, taking his seat in the single chair beside me.

Rose sits down beside me, her hands folded elegantly in her lap, legs crossed - she is in full business mode. I hook one leg over the other, mirroring her position and wait for the ball to drop. Tanner seems to be in a decent mood this morning, which is a good sign, but there is an unsettling feeling in the air.

Tanner takes a sip from his cup and sets it on the table, "So, Belikov, I am going to be straight with you," he begins, leaning back, he rests one leg over the other knee, holding his hand up to show a sliver of space with his index and thumb, "I am this close to sending you back to Triple-A. Your stats from last year are showing me that you are no longer capable of your position."

I want to interject, defend myself and my state of mind during last season, but I keep my mouth sealed.

He lifts a folder from the table, flipping it open he pulls out several sheets of paper, thumbing through them, "You played thirty-two games, a total of fifty-nine innings, including playoffs. Saves, four. Earned run average, four point four. Strikeouts per nine innings, six," drawing in a deep breath, "Opponents batting average, six hundred," closing the folder, he locks his eyes to me, "Do you see the problem here?"

The baseball shoved down my throat doesn't allow me to speak, so I simply nod. I knew my stats were bad, but not that bad. As a closing pitcher, my job is to save the game, meaning you don't allow any more runs to score to keep your team in the lead. My ratio for games saved versus games played should be close to two to one, not ten to one, strikeouts should be in the teens, and opponents batting average - two hundred, not six. _Yeah. _

"Now," he tosses the folder on the table, folding his hands in his lap, "I will say, you came through in the end, we wouldn't have won the Series had you not performed well, but one game doesn't make up for the other thirty-one."

"I understand," I choke out, watching my time in the majors creep to an end.

"I brought you up because you proved your worth, but I can't keep a player on my roster who isn't going to benefit the team. It's not fair to them or me." _Signed. Sealed. Delivered. _Tanner doesn't pull punches, you can't afford too when you have a title to defend. "But…"

_Breathe, D, breathe. _

"Both Ash and Miss Mazur here have put up quite the fight for you," he smiles, and my heart stalls, "They have convinced me that you are well on your way to recovery and I am going to give you a chance to prove that."

"Thank you, Sir," my words come out rushed.

His face returns to the serious 'manager mask' and he points a finger, "If you fail, you will be sent back to El Paso for next season, understood?"

El Paso is our Minor league team, _The Chihuahua's. _Yeah, Chihuahua's. But it's not just the name that makes me cringe, it's the thought of having to move back out there. Don't get me wrong, it's a nice enough place, but it's not on my top ten list of cities.

"Yes, Sir, completely understood."

"Good," shifting in his seat, he switches legs, "Now, first things first, _Rider's Rookies_, I have you set to lead the nine to eleven-year-olds." _damn it_, "Zeloks will be your assistant coach and I expect positive feedback from the kids, as well as, the parents."

_Ivan's coming back? _Huh. I thought he would stay home for the whole offseason, but I'm not going to bitch about it. Not only is he my only friend on the team, but we can also practice together during the camp. _Two birds, one stone. _I'll take it.

I knew there was a chance that with my performance last year I would be sent back down, but Tanner is giving me the off-season to show my worth to the team. To myself. I know I am better than what the paper says, I have proved that many times, but my stats are what determine my place -_and my paycheck. _

"After the holidays, I expect to see you training day and night," he continues, "you need to improve on your pitch percentages and accuracy. It's not how fast you throw, it's how well you throw fast."

"Yes, Sir," I sit forward, tenting my fingers, "I made mistakes last year, but I won't make them again. Thank you for allowing me to redeem myself."

"Thank her," he points at Rose with a smile, "she seems to think you're worth the chance, don't fuck it up."

One thing I like about Tanner, he is direct. He doesn't beat around the bush or sugarcoats anything. And I can't help but feel that his final statement is about more than just the game.

I turn to look at Rose - who has sat silently through our whole meeting - she smiles, her brown eyes shine with faith in me, and I love it. With a smile and a voice full of promise, I say, "I won't."

Tanner dismisses us, hands Rose a packet containing the schedule for Camp, and we take our leave, head to _Whataburger_ to grab lunch, and go home to eat. She doesn't say anything on the drive, busying herself with looking through the packet Tanner gave her. I watch her from the corner of my eye, her lip stays wedged between her teeth as she scans each page, one of which catches my eye, _Registration_. I try to see the name printed in the tiny box, but she flips the page before I can take a closer look.

"Is that for Paul?" I ask, breaking the silence.

Her head snaps up from her lap and her eye twitches when she says, "Yeah. Karo wanted something for him to do while they're here. He plays football back home, don't know how much of a baseball player he will be though," she chuckles, trying to hide, but I saw it.

* * *

_**Rose**_

The hour of reckoning is coming.

Correction-_ it's here. _

After lunch, I retired to the pool house to '_take a nap'_ \- a.k.a rehearse my lines. I have played over every possible scenario that could happen - anger, sadness, hurt, and even happy -_that last one is a long shot, I know. _I am prepared to take whatever emotion he wants to give.

My whispered confessions last night lifted so much from my shoulders, allowing me to sleep peacefully for the remainder of the night. It felt amazing to finally say it, even if he didn't hear a word. But I know it's time to tell him out loud, while he is awake, and I have the balls to do it.

With one last deep breath, I walk out of the pool house, immediately spotting Dimitri in the kitchen through the wall-length windows. His back is to me as he stands in front of the stove. Wrangler jeans hang low on his hips, a small towel draped over his shoulder.

He turns his head when I open the back door, smiling, "I'm making pasta for dinner, are you hungry?"

"No, I'm okay for now, thank you," I say, fingering the hem of my shirt. "I… I… uh wanted to talk to you about something."

He clicks the burner off, pulling the towel from his shoulder he wipes his hands and leans on the counter, resting on his forearms, "I wanted to talk to you as well."

"Oh, okay," the chair scratches against the floor, I take a seat and wave my hand to him, "You go ahead." _I'm not stalling, I swear. _

"Yesterday was rough," he starts, shaking his head with a light chuckle, "but I want you to know that I mean everything I said. From here to dinner to the field. I am not happy with the way my life has panned out to this point, but I will do whatever needed to right my wrongs." _I hope he keeps that mentality. _"This whole week has shown me that with you here, life is worth living…"

"Why do I feel a 'but' coming," I rest my chin on my hand, trying to raise a brow but I feel them both move.

"Because having you here physically is only a third of the equation. I want you here completely. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. But I can't force you to be."

He's so honest, so open, and I pray for my strength holds out to do the same. "I want too, it's just not easy."

"I know," he reaches over, laying a hand on my arm, "trust me, I know. Just talk, don't think about it, just do it." Pushing off the counter, he returns to the stove, turning the sauce back on and stirring it.

The only problem with his advice is I don't know how to just talk anymore. I over-analyze everything in my mind a hundred times before speaking if I speak up at all. I have never been good with talking about my feelings, even back then, I kept certain things hidden until the pot finally boiled over and spilled the tea. Now, if I was to say, discussing a business proposition or resolving a media issue, I would run circles around the other party. I can talk my way in and out of every situation, as long as it's not dealing with my emotions.

"Alright," he hits the spoon on the pot, making me jump, "How about you ask me anything you want to know? Like rapid-fire questions, I'll answer with the first thing that comes to mind."

"Okay, hmm" I tap my chin, "Wait, what's the catch?"

He gives me a wicked grin, "You ask me whatever you want and then I ask you something."

"Well played, Comrade," I nod my approval. He waves a hand, giving me the go-ahead, "How many women have you been with?"

"Since you, I don't know to be honest," he scratches his jaw, "If I had to guess, I'd say somewhere around a hundred, give or take a few." _I think I just threw up in my mouth. A hundred different women? _"How many guys?"

"Seriously, a hundred?" I have to confirm that before I move on.

"Give or take," he waves his hand before planting it firmly on the counter, "How many for you?" he asks again.

"Zero," I say a little breathy, still trying to get over his number. I knew he had been with several women, but not that many.

"You seriously haven't been with anyone since me?"

"Nope, but don't let that go to your head," I wag a finger toward his already inflated ego.

"Too late," he smiles, leaning forward on his forearms, "You're up."

"When did you get your tattoo?"

"Six months ago. Who called you the other night?" he points a finger as soon as I open my mouth. "And don't say Adrian. I know that was a lie."

"Jumping right to it, alright," I mumble, "Xander. Who was the woman at the restaurant?"

"Tasha. Who is Xander?"

"Mysonwho'sTasha?" I say it as quickly as possible, hoping he doesn't catch my answer before the question.

His face loses all color and I know he caught it. Not quite the way I wanted to tell him, but I'll admit, blurting it out was the right way to go.

"What the fuck did you just say?" That voice. It's cold, hard, demanding. Guess we are going to go with the angry scenario. I was favoring that one.

I take a deep breath, locking my eyes onto his, shivering at the intensity and fire burning through them, "My son," I pause for a beat and clarify, just so he doesn't have a doubt in his mind about what I am telling him. "Our son."

I sit straight, my hands linked together in my lap, shoulders rolled back, ready to take every ugly, angry word from him. I can handle it.

Imagine my surprise when it doesn't come.

He stares but doesn't speak, the wheels in his mind grinding on overdrive as he processes my confession. If this were a cartoon animation, smoke would be billowing from his nose and ears. I'm waiting for the Tasmanian devil to show up and destroy everything around us.

But that doesn't come either.

He blinks, his chest finally rising and falling with the motion of breathing, turns on his heel and walks to the garage door. Pulling the keys to his Porsche off the hook, he opens the door, slamming it shut behind him. I can hear the car start, the engine revving as he backs out and speeds down the drive.

Out of all the ways I saw him reacting, running away wasn't one of them. And if I am being honest, that hurts far more than if he would have stayed and screamed at me.

* * *

_Happy Sunday, Loves. _

_I apologize for not getting around to sending emails to those who reviewed this weekend, but know that I appreciate you taking the time to leave your thoughts. _

_Now, I do have some news, which I will be sharing **LIVE on Facebook on Friday **_at approx 6 PM CST._ Also, please be aware, Chapter Fourteen will not be uploaded until **Next SUNDAY.** I will be filling everyone in on Friday as to why. _

_Feel free to follow me on Facebook or check in on the page on Friday for the LIVE video. Big things are coming for me and I want to share it with all of you. _

_All My Love and Thanks for reading/reviewing! _

_Dream_


	14. Chapter 14

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

_**Dimitri**_

* * *

How fast will this old girl go?

That's the question I am trying to focus on, not the one I just asked Rose.

_Eighty. _

_Ninty. _

_One hundred. _

_One-ten. _

_One-twenty. _

Holy fuck, _I have a son. _

_One-thirty. _

_One-forty._

_One-fifty. _

"Alright, I'm not trying to die tonight," lifting my foot off the accelerator I watch the speedometer plummet, the motor wines as it comes back down to a normal speed.

One thing I love about living out in the country, the backroads are a perfect place to be when you need to clear your head. Miles of farmland, open fields, and the only traffic is a stray tractor man. _How could she have never told me? _The air is crisp and clean and smells like hay. _Stella _loves backroad driving. She hugs the curves and burns the straightaways. _Ten fucking years and she kept it to herself! _I drop gears to third, dipping deep into the _S_ curve by Chester's farm, floating through the turn like a dream. _Dream. _

I hit the breaks, squealing the tires, smoke billowing into the air behind me until she finally stops sideways in the middle of the no lane road. I dreamed about him last night. Xander. Alexander...that was the name I heard.

_My son._

The final piece slips into place - my mind, heart, down to my very soul are complete. My head falls against the steering wheel, blaring the horn into the desolate night air, drowning out the shattering of my armor.

I don't know what I should feel more - happy that I finally know what has been missing or fucking pissed because I didn't have to miss it. She had every opportunity to tell me she was pregnant when I called. I would have left everything here and flown right back home. I would have been there, I would have helped her raised him. I would have been a man and stepped up, but she didn't even give me the chance. She ignored my phone calls, letting me believe she didn't want anything to do with me. And the whole time she has been here, from the first moment in Ash's office when he asked her about Xander, she has been lying to me. I have cut myself open for her, told her the truth about everything, shared my true feelings, and she has been keeping my son from me!

_What in the ever-living fuck! _

For years - _years_ \- I have been searching for myself, thinking I would find it in the game. I have been wondering, roleplaying a life I thought I would never have, and it was right there the whole damn time. I had a family in another country that I was none the wiser about.

_Son of a bitch! _

Jamming the clutch to the floor, I stick it in first gear and spin the tires toward the city. There is one place I know that will bring me solace right now, _Old Vlad's Draft House, _a small tavern-style bar in Arlington.

It's still early so the parking lot is practically empty when I pull in. I back into a spot at the end of the lot, grab my hat off the dash and head inside. The smell of stale beer and depression hang heavy in the air, accenting my mood. Low hanging bulb lights line the bar, which only has two lonely patrons occupying the space, each with a tall ale and whiskey in front of them. I take up the stool in the middle waving a hand to Emil - the bartender I haven't seen in seven months.

"D," he walks over immediately, offers his fist for knocking, and pulls two coasters from under the bar, "Long time no see, brother. How have you been?" He sets down a shot glass, filling it with _Tito's_, then pulls down the house brew tap to fill a pint.

I first met Emil four years ago when Ivan and I stumbled along the hidden gem after the last game of our first season in the Majors. We spent many nights here after wins and losses, shooting pool and drinking dark ale, leaving with a different girl each night. That won't be happening this time around - _not after last time _\- but _Vlad's _is the one place I know I can be just another patron. Between the crowd -which will fill in shortly- and the dark atmosphere, I blend right in.

"I've been better," I spin my cap backward, "How are you?"

"I'm good," he smiles, setting my beer down on the _Corona _coaster, I tip my head in thanks. He leans forward resting his forearms on the counter just below the wood bar top, meeting me at eye level, "Tell me, D, what's got ya? I've only seen that look on your face once."

I spin my shot between two fingers, swallowing the bolder in my throat, "I just found out I have a kid."

"For real this time," he jokes, but I'm not laughing. Keeping my head down, I look up at him, "Oh shit, bro, you're like serious?"

"Yeah, I'm serious," down the hatch the _Tito's _goes.

"Uh," he drags out, "Should I say congratulations or… I'm sorry…"

Sliding the glass back and forth, "Either. Both. Fuck, I don't know," my forehead hits the bar, I grip the back of my neck with both hands.

"Damn, man, that's rough." I hear the clank of bottles, "On the house tonight," he says, pushing another shot toward me.

"Might as well leave the bottle if that's the case," I try to laugh, but it sounds more like a dying sea lion.

He nods, leaves the bottle on the table and heads to the other end to fill another order. I pull the pourer nipple from the neck, toss it on the counter behind the bar, and slink into the corner booth with my bottle and pint of dark.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it, knowing it's one of two people trying to call me. Rose or Ash. Quite frankly I don't want to talk to either of them anytime soon. I just want to sit here, in the dark against the cool exposed brick wall in my booth and drink this bottle of vodka.

I flip my hat back around, rest my head against the wall, tipping the bottle to my lips. The yellow bulb lights sway every time the door opens, entrancing me as I watch the glare on the glass table shift back and forth. The world around me fades, voices, music, glasses clinking, all of it dissolves into the background, my thoughts are the only thing I hear.

I feel like a broken record. The same question rolling through my mind, over and over, never changing, never providing an answer.

_How could she not tell me? _

I know I left without warning. I know I made mistakes, but fuck, he's my son. I would have given everything to be there. I would have given up on my dreams and settled into the predetermined life I used to fear. If it meant having a baby with her, I would have done anything.

_How could she not tell me? _

Did I miss something before I left? Were there any clues that may have influenced her choice to keep it from me? I try to think back as best as I can, but everything is starting to feel fuzzy. From what I can remember, her Dad was out of town, we watched _A Walk to Remember_ \- for the thousandth time - and a few other movies, I cooked dinner, and we made beautiful love, spending the whole night wrapped around each other until I went home that morning.

Did she know she was pregnant then? Or did she find out afterward?

Either way, _how could she not tell me? _

I tried to talk to her. I reached out to her. All she had to do was answer the damn phone. And where does my family fit into all of this? Do they all know he is mine? _Does he look like me? _I mean fuck, she gave him my middle name, they have to know. None of them told me either! It's like everyone in the world knows about this walking - talking piece of me -_ but me. _

_How could they not tell me? _

Something hits my foot, so I pull it back, keeping my eyes focused on the table where I am still watching the light sway. "Hey there, handsome," a slim hand taps the middle of the table, "Can I join you?" That voice, I know that voice. I hate it. Loathe it even.

"I am not in the mood," I grumble, shutting my eyes.

"Aw, did your little charity case run out on you," her baby-talk voice grinds through my ears.

"Fuck off," I growl, giving her one last warning. I won't hit her, but I have no problem with asking the bouncer to handle her annoying ass.

"Tash," a males voice bellows across the bar, "Leave him alone."

"Mind your own, Chris," she yells back.

"I'd listen to him if I were you," another male voice joins the table, "You're in violation of your restraining order."

"What restrain…." she stops short, pauses for a second, "Fine," she mutters and I hear the stomp of her feet on the hardwood floor as she walks away.

I open my eyes, surprised to find Eddie standing in front of me, "You're a cop?" I raise a brow at the badge pinned to his chest.

"No, you interrupted a very nice roleplay with Ash…"

"Stop. Stop." I hold up my hand, "I do not need to know about…"

"I'm only fucking with you," he laughs, "Yes, I am a cop," he points to his badge and the gun holstered to his hip, "Rose called Ash, Ash called me, so here I am."

"Weren't you guys in Oklahoma?"

"Came back early," he shrugs, "Work gets in the way sometimes. Now come on, I'll give you a ride home."

"I don't want to go home," I shake my head, lifting the half-empty bottle back to my lips.

"Would you rather stay here with her," he nods toward Tasha.

I look toward the table she sat at, her eyes are glued to me, while a black-haired guy and a blonde lock lips beside her. "Not particularly, but I don't want to go home," I say, turning back to him. "Just take me to a hotel."

"How about my house? That way we can make sure you don't do anything stupid?" I scoff and take another sip. "Dimitri, don't make me cuff you," he wiggles his eyebrows.

"Won't Ash get jealous," I counter, two can play this game, buddy.

"No, I use the fuzzy ones on him," _and I'm done. _

I'm not against their relationship. Love who you want to love, but I don't need the image of my manager and his husband playing with fuzzy handcuffs.

"Fine, but I'm not going to lay on the couch and '_talk about my feelings'_ with either of you." I point a finger to show my seriousness.

His hands raised in a surrender pose, "No therapy, just a safe place for you to sleep tonight."

Sliding out of the booth, I leave the bottle on the table, slide Emil a hundred dollar bill, and step outside with Eddie. He takes my keys, handing them to another officer to drive my car back to his house, and I climb into the front seat of Eddie's cruiser.

"What does this button do," my finger hovers over the glowing red button, "Turn on the rocket boosters?"

"We don't have rockets," he shakes his head, slapping my hand away, "That's my emergency signal, don't touch it."

"Can I turn on the lights," the little kid in me is starting to show.

"No," he groans, smacking my hand again, "Don't touch anything."

"You're no fun, Ed," my eyes roll with my head, landing against the cool glass of the window.

The city blurs by as we wind through the downtown streets toward the housing association they live in. Neon lights line the streets, music filtering through the open doors of different bars. I roll down the window, drawing a deep breath of the city air.

_How could she not have told me? _

"You know," Eddie breaks the silence, turning us to the left toward a large wrought iron gate, "I can't say I understand how you feel, but what I can say is don't focus on the time you missed, focus on what you can gain now."

"Easier said than done," I mumble, rolling my window back up, "Ten years, man, that's a lot of time to miss out on when I didn't have too."

"Would you have gone home though?" reaching out the window he punches in the code.

"Of course," I growl, "I would never have left had I known."

He nods, pulling through the gate, "Okay."

"You don't know me, Eddie. You don't know who I was before I came here, I was a different person back then," I defend my younger self, "I may have had dreams and goals to get out of that town, but I would have stayed if I had too."

"I don't doubt that," he makes a left, "but, would you have resented it? Or would you have been happy to stay there, give up your dreams to raise a child you didn't plan for?"

"I'd like to think I would be happy. I wouldn't have lost Roza. I'd have my own family."

"But you'd be stuck," he jumps in. The cogs mesh together in my mind, he's answering my question, "I'm not saying she was right to keep it from you, but from what I know, she didn't want you to feel obligated to go home."

"That's no excuse," I turn in my seat to face him when he pulls in the driveway of his two-story white stone house, "It should have been my choice. Obligations aside, I should have been informed and allowed to make my own decisions."

"Again, I'm not disagreeing with you or taking her side alone. I think you both need to take a break, breathe, process, and then talk things out. Like it or not, Dimitri, this is the way things ended up." I open my mouth to combat, but he raises a hand, "You have a son who wants to know you, don't let your anger at the situation take away from being a part of his life now."

"Why do you sound like you are speaking from experience?"

He drags a hand through his short sandy blond hair, "I was given up for adoption, didn't know my birth parents until I was eighteen. I had a great childhood, but I always felt a part of my life was a mystery. When I finally got to know them, I found that part of me I didn't understand. I may not know how you feel, but I do know how Xander feels, don't cut him out because you're angry with Rose."

He opens his door and I follow suit, walking up the cobblestone path to the front door. He points toward the staircase on the right, telling me the room at the end of the hall is open for me. I head straight up, not wanting to stay and talk to Ash. Making a stop in the bathroom, I wash my face, take a leak and walk into the bedroom- falling face-first on the mattress, replaying Eddie's words.

I understand what he is saying, but I'm struggling to accept all of this. Even if Rose believed she was doing what was best for me, keeping Xander a secret so I could chase my dreams, it wasn't her choice to make. Would I have resented having to return home, or stay in the first place, maybe, but that would have been my choice. I would have much rather had her and our son than to have a big ass empty house and a large bank account.

I lost and found myself here, but was it worth missing out on my son's life?

My phone buzzes in my pocket again. I give in and check my messages, just to see what she has to say:

_Please be careful. _

_I know you're mad at me. I would be too. Just let me know when you get where you are going. I just want to know that you are safe. _

_Dimitri? _

_Please, if nothing else, just tell me you're not dead in a ditch. A simple 'I'm alive' will work. Or even a 'K'. Just something. _

_Comrade? _

_I'm losing my mind here._

_Okay. I get it. I know you're angry, hurt, and you want to be left alone, but I'm worried. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I will answer any questions you have, I will do whatever you want to make this better. Just for the love of God tell me you are okay. _

I laugh to myself, now that the cat is out of the bag, she is willing to be open with me. _Nothing left to hide I guess._

_Physically at least. _

_I called Mason, he is going to have Eddie look for you._

_Mase said Eddie found you. I'll leave you be for the night. _

_I'm sorry, Dimitri. _

Me too, Rose. Me too.

I should have stayed and talked to her. Instead, I ran. Cut me a little slack, alright. Hearing those two words slip past her lips was a complete blindside. I just need a little time to get my thoughts in order.

I power off my phone, toss it on the nightstand and roll onto my back, slipping off to the land of nod.

* * *

Worst. Night. Of sleep. Ever.

Being woken up by cold shower you didn't ask for doesn't help.

"Downstairs," Ash says, tucking the bucket under his arm. Spinning on his heel, he calls over his shoulder, "I don't have all morning, hop to it."

"Fucking, asshole," I mutter, throwing the covers to the side and head into the bathroom. I take a leak, brush away the horrid morning breath, and head down the stairs less than five minutes later.

Ash is in the kitchen, sitting on a barstool at the island, watching Eddie cook breakfast. I envy them. The easy way they interact, admire each other, it's sickening and beautiful at the same time.

"Morning, Dimitri, would you like an omelet?" Eddie holds up the frying pan.

"No thank you," I pull the stool beside Ash out, plopping myself down, "Alright, I'm here."

"Are you?" he raises a brow.

I pinch my arm, "Yep. Not dreaming."

"That's not what I mean," his eyes roll and he taps his temple, "Mentally, are you here?"

I scratch my chest, letting out a long ribbon of air, "If I say yes are you going to lecture me?"

"I'm going to, either way, I'd just rather you be present for the conversation," he says and I respect his honesty. I wave a hand, giving him the floor.

"First off, let me just say, I applaud you for walking away." Huh? I lean back with a questioning stare. "You could have stayed and fought, but you made the right choice by leaving."

"I doubt that's how she sees it," I turn my face from him, picking a piece of lint off my thigh.

"She will," lifting his coffee cup, he takes a quick sip and places it back on the star-shaped coaster, "Secondly, I want to know where your head is at. How you are feeling."

I pull a loose string off my shirt, "I don't know. Mad. Sad," I sigh, "Happy."

"Care to elaborate," he takes another drink.

I run both hands through my hair and drop my arms to the counter, "I'm mad because I should have been told sooner, I'm sad because I missed out on my son's life when I didn't have too, and I'm happy because despite her keeping him from me, I have a fucking son." Rubbing my thumb against my palm, I take a deep breath, "I just want to know why she never told me."

"Because you left." I snap my eyes to him and he holds up a hand, "I know had you know, you would have gone back. I trust that because unlike Eddie, I know the man you were before you came here. Rose used to tell me how you treated her back then, how much you loved her, I don't doubt that you would have stayed."

"Love," I whisper.

"What?"

"Love, present tense." I correct him because let's face it, I do. I can't deny it - no matter how fucked up my head and heart are right now. "I still love her, you know this."

"Well yeah, but you get what I am saying," he waves a hand in exasperation, "I don't think you would have stayed gone had you known about Xander. However," I roll my eyes, _should have seen that coming_, "You have to see her side too. You left without a trace. Yeah, you called your mother hours later, but you didn't even tell her goodbye. There was no warning and she took that really hard."

"I know, she told me," my head hangs with shame, recalling Rose's stories of life after I left. The depression, suicidal thoughts, weight loss, sickness, all of it. "But I tried, Ash. I called, texted, everything once I got settled here, but she wouldn't answer."

"Would you have?"

I want to say yes, but the word sticks in my throat. Would I have answered had it been reversed? If I was going through all of that, would I have picked up the phone for the person who put me in that state of mind?

"She was broken, lost, and pregnant," Ash continues when I don't answer, "Only sixteen years old, she made a choice that she believed to be best. Am I saying it was the 'right' thing to do, no, but it is what was right for her at the time."

"Okay," I nod, taking that into consideration, "Why not tell me when he was one, or three, or even five?" I smack the counter, "And I can't help but wonder if she hadn't come here for a job, would she ever had told me?"

"The job isn't what brought her here," that stops me cold.

"What are you talking about? You hired her."

"You need to talk to her about it," he mumbles over the lip of his cup, "All I will say is it would have happened regardless."

"I'm not ready to talk to her yet," scrubbing my face with both hands.

"Take a day or two, get your thoughts in order," he lays a hand on my shoulder. "If you want, I will have her move in here so you can go home."

"No, let her stay, I'll get a hotel for a few days."

"You can stay here if you like," Eddie offers, setting a plate on the counter for Ash. The smell of eggs and mushrooms makes my stomach growl. Maybe I should have asked for one.

"I don't want to impose on you," I shake off my hunger, standing from my chair.

"You wouldn't be," Ash grips my arm, "Just stay here and when you're ready, you can go home and talk to her. No need to spend money on a hotel when we have extra rooms."

I'm not blind to the real reason he wants me to stay here. They want to keep an eye on me, make sure I don't dive off the deep end like I did when the whole Tasha ordeal happened.

I give in, telling him only for a few days, and sit back down. Eddie makes me an omelet, noticing the way I keep eyeing Ash's and we eat with a light -none Rose related- conversation. I volunteer to do the dishes and they take off upstairs. Much like my house, there is a window over the sink that looks out to the backyard. Since we're in the city I don't get the view I do out at my property, but it's calming nonetheless.

I stack the last plate in the drying rack and dry my hands, watching a flock of birds soar through the early morning sky. Purple swirls fade to blue just over the neighbor's roof. If I can count on anything to settle my mind it's backroads and blue clear skies, one of the many reasons I love living here. The sky goes on for miles and backroads are never hard to find.

My reflection stares back at me in the double-paned window, "You would have regretted it." I whisper to him, "You would have resented not being able to chase your dreams. Settling for the life you didn't want. We would have..."

A knock at the door cuts off my mirror confession. I hang the towel on the edge and head to answer, not wanting to interrupt whatever those two are doing.

"What are you doing here?"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Just to advise everyone: UPDATES ARE BEING REDUCED TO ONCE A WEEK - SUNDAY EVENINGS.**


	15. Chapter 15

_**Chapter Fifteen**_

_**Rose**_

* * *

I didn't sleep worth shit last night.

I laid awake for hours on his side of the bed, drinking in his scent, trying to calm myself down. His refusal to answer any of my text messages didn't help matters any.

I understand his reluctance to talk to me, I do, but I just need to know that he is safe. If he's anything like me -_ which we all know he is _\- having that big of a bomb dropped on you can make you do irrational things. I went through stages of depression, contemplating suicide, and overwhelming happiness during my pregnancy. I can only imagine the mood swings he is experiencing.

Thankfully, Eddie found him and took him back to his house. I don't know that I would have fallen asleep at all had he not. I hoped this morning he would reply, or come home and talk with me, but Mason's text slammed the door on those thoughts.

Dimitri doesn't want to come home yet, nor does he wish to talk to me for the time being. I offered to pack my things and move out, but per Mason -through Dimitri- he said for me to stay. Should I take that as a good or bad sign? I'm not sure at this moment. My mind is a see-saw, floating up and down with the possible reasons he would want me to stay here. I hope it's because he plans on coming back to work things out at some point, but the logical side of my brain says it's only because his house has never been home to him so he doesn't care to be here at all.

I just want to explain my side, the reasons I had for keeping him in the dark for so long. It may or may not help in the end, but I would feel so much better if he knew all of the factors that have played a role in why things are the way they are. But I will give him the time and space he wants for now.

Which is why - duffle bag in hand, I stand on the front porch of Mason's house, waiting for him to answer. But it's not Mase or even Eddie who opens the door.

"What are you doing here?"

My head snaps up at the sound of his voice. He doesn't sound angry, more or less surprised. I didn't think he would be the one answering the door, so the shock factor works for both of us. He wears the same clothes from last night, his eyes are rimmed in red, and his shoulders slouched with despair.

My armor shatters a little more and I can't hide the expression of pain at seeing him so distraught. Licking my lips, I try to speak, it comes out rough from how dry my throat is, "Mase said you didn't want to be at home, so I brought you some clothes," I hold up the duffle, "Your toiletries, and anything else I thought you might want." I pull out his copy of _Lonesome Dove_ from the side pocket, forcing a smile to break the tension.

"You didn't have to do that," he rubs a hand over his stubbled jaw, "But thank you."

"You're welcome," I hand him the bag. His fingers brush mine, the small touch sending a shock over my skin. I pull back, wrapping my arms around my stomach. We're silent for a few moments, standing awkwardly on the porch, not looking at one another.

I take a deep breath, "Dimitri…"

He puts up one hand and heaved a deep sigh, "I'm not ready yet, Rose."

"I know. I just want you to know that when you are, I will tell you anything you want to know." I take a step back, turning to walk back to my car parked on the street. Each step feels like a mile, even though it's only thirty feet. Walking away from him has never been easy for me, but it's what is best right now.

"Rose," his timid call halts my steps just shy of the curb. Turning around, I meet his eyes, "What's his full name?"

I smile softly, "Alexander Dimitri Belikov-Mazur."

"I like it," one corner of his mouth twitches, the closest thing he gives to a smile. Turning around, he walks back inside, shutting the door softly behind him.

_One plank at a time._

That's what I have to keep telling myself. One plank at a time we will build our bridge. It may not be as strong as it once was, but it will be strong enough to handle what's to come. I have to believe that.

* * *

_I told you not to fall in love with me…._

"Damn you, Landon," I swat away the tears free-falling down my cheeks and throw a piece of popcorn at my laptop.

It is way too early to be this much of an emotional wreck, but I have nothing better to do. Once I got back from taking Dimitri his stuff, I checked around the internet for any post that may have come from the spectacle at the steak house, thankfully not finding anything negative toward him. I did see a few about Tasha though - and I won't lie and say I didn't find enjoyment reading the trolling comments about her. I also added a few _Flashback Friday_ photos to _Instagram _and _Facebook _and posted on all three platforms about the upcoming camp. Lastly, responded to a few emails requesting interviews and guest appearances, advising that he was unavailable for the time being with his family in town. It's a small fib, but it will be true in a few days.

Now, it's only nine AM, I have completed everything work-related that I needed to do for the day and I am at a loss for what to do with my time. I'm not so much in the mood to go out and explore, though I probably should considering I still haven't found a place to live. Plus, sitting here, in his bed, watching romance movies that end with death is not the best way to keep moving forward.

I snap my laptop closed as Landon drops his mouth to Jamie's. You know, if he could overcome finding out about her terminal cancer, Dimitri and I can overcome a ten-year-old secret. Real-life can be like movies and books...right?

Yeah. I know. Wishful thinking.

Resigning with myself, I head back to the pool house, shower, dress, and head out to _Karp's Cafe_, the little coffee house I found downtown. Since Dimitri doesn't have WiFi, I have been using the data on my phone, but the signal is still spotty that far out in the country. I've been wanting to video chat Olena and Xander, so I'll take the free WiFi where I can get it.

Just shy of ten AM only a few patrons occupy a set of reading chairs in the front corner. I set my laptop bag down on the leather couch against the wall and head to the counter to place my order. The bimbo blonde from last time fakes a smile, "How can I help you?"

Taking a look at the gold-plated name tag, I catch her name - _Vasilisa_ \- and in an instant, the _Tetris_ blocks fall into place. The jade eyes, platinum blonde hair, and the _fuck-you_ vibe she wears like a second skin -_ Lissa Dragomir- my step-sister._

When my mother remarried, she took on two children - Andre and Lissa. Neither of them cared for me -_ much like her_ \- and I didn't care for them. When I visited I was treated like the red-headed stepchild. Eric - their father - was the only one in the house that paid any mind to me. He made sure I was fed and taken care of, while my mother only acknowledged my presence when she wanted or needed something.

Andre saw me as the annoying little sister he didn't want, and Lissa saw me as competition. I wasn't allowed to play with them or their friends, which is why Mase and I became close. While they went out to friends' houses, I sat on the back porch every day talking to the little boy on the other side of the fence.

Shitty, I know. Seeing my mother care for Lissa and Andre in the way she never did for me left some deep-rooted 'mommy' issues. I still have them, probably always will, but one thing I promised myself - I would never be her. I wouldn't abandon my son the way she abandoned me.

Blinking a few times, I fix on a smile, "I'll have a Vanilla Cappuccino, thank you," I say, handing her a ten-dollar bill.

I toss the change in the tip cup and take to my seat, plugging in my laptop and powering it up. Lissa sets my cup on the table beside my computer, smiles softly -_a real one this time-_ and walks away when I nod my thanks.

Once connected, I dial Olena, stick my headphones in my ears, and grip my cup between both hands. "_Doch,_" her face takes over the screen, a bright smile on her lips, "How are you? You haven't called in days!"

"I'm okay," I answer, tilting the computer screen just slightly to see her better. "Is Xander already asleep?"

"I just put him to bed," the phone shakes as she rises from the couch, heading upstairs to Dimitri's old bedroom. Clicking on the light, she shakes his shoulder gently and hands him the phone.

"Hey, baby," I choke out at the sight of his sleepy little face. _God, I can't wait for him to be here._

He's half asleep, so I keep our conversation short. I just needed to see him, hear his voice, to make it through the day. No matter what happens with Dimitri and me, I will always have my baby boy. He is my reason to keep pushing forward.

I tell him I love and miss him, blow him air kisses, and promise that I will see him soon. He does the same and hands the phone back to Olena. I listen for the sound of his door shutting and her footsteps down the stairs before speaking again.

"I told him," I blurt out.

"I know," she says with a sigh, returning to her chair in the living room. "He called me about an hour ago."

"What did he say?" I sit a little straighter, surprised that he reached out to her so quickly.

"He was upset - at all of us - for keeping Xander from him. I told him there were a lot of factors that went into that decision and he should take time to think before talking to you about it."

My poor bottom lip is taking so much abuse lately, "Did Xander here any of that conversation?"

"No," her greying hair sways around her shoulders, "I sent him to bathe."

"Good." I would hate for him to have overheard anything Dimitri might have said, lest he thinks he is upset with him. He may be like Dimitri in brainpower, but his heart is just like mine. I know it's my fault, keeping parts of him a secret. "Be honest with me Mama, do you think I did the right thing?"

"I can not agree nor disagree," she covers her mouth, letting out a long yawn, "You were too young to have to make those choices, but you did the best you could."

"Get some rest, Mama. Thank you for taking care of Xander for me. I can't wait for you to be here."

"Me too, Roza. I love you, dear."

"I love you too."

I end the call, shutting my laptop for the time being and rest my head against the back of the couch. I'm in public, so I try to keep the tears from spilling, but it's no use. Separation depression is a very real thing and there is no denying that I am drowning in waves of it right now.

One week. Seven days. That's all I have left to get through. I can do it.

Wiping my eyes, I sit up, putting my computer on the table, I open it once more to search for properties in the area. Mason has offered time and time again for me to live in his pool house, but I want to find a place of our own. Olena and Adrian will be living with me, after the girls return home, so I only have a month or two to find a suitable home.

Two hours later. No luck.

Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of properties available, but none of them fall into my budget. Plus, none of them have that _wow_ factor. You know what I'm talking about - when you the first picture and just know that's the one you want. Yeah, haven't found it yet. Well, I have but that house isn't for sale.

I'm not trying to be unreasonable with it, but if I am going to buy a house, I want it to be something I can see myself living in for the rest of my life. I don't plan on leaving here again unless Xander decides to move back to Russia when he gets older.

Tapped out on house hunting, I check Dimitri's social media - liking comments and replying to a few for him, answer another dozen emails, and pack up. It's just after twelve, so I shoot Mason a text to see if he is up for grabbing lunch.

_**Mase: **_When and Where?

_**Rose: **_Right now. I'm craving pizza, know any good places?

_**Mase: **_I have just the spot. Be there in twenty.

He attaches the name and address.

Looping my bag over my shoulder, I stand to leave, noticing Lissa watching me. I smile politely and rush out the door, praying to whatever God is out there that she doesn't remember me.

The last thing I need is a visit from my mother.

* * *

I arrive at the pizzeria before Mason, ordering a personal pie for each of us, and take a seat in the corner booth. The smell of freshly made dough and marinara sauce make my stomach growl. I skipped breakfast this morning, nibbling on popcorn instead of making a meal.

I busy myself on my phone, scrolling through _Facebook_ not truly looking at the random post on my feed. Country music plays softly from the half dozen speakers tucked into the corners, resulting in numerous jabs to my heart. Dimitri had a weird fascination with the '80s and Country music growing up. When he left, I played one of his _George Strait_ CD's every day for hours on end. Needless to say, I would recognize the melody floating through the restaurant in my sleep.

_I cross my heart and promise to give all I've got to give to make all your dreams come true. _

_In all the world, you'll never find a love as true as mine. _

_You will always be the miracle that makes my life complete._

Every time I hear this song, I'm taken back to the first time he told me he loved me. It wasn't one of those cheesy moments when he confessed his love during sex, but rather before we even undressed. He snuck over to my house after the party had ended and we met under the tree in my backyard, slow dancing to the sound of _I Cross My Heart_ playing from his phone. He sang every word, never taking his eyes off mine. I had never felt so wanted in my entire life than I did at that moment with him.

_For as long as I live, Roza, I will always love you. No matter what happens in the future, you will forever be the miracle that makes my life complete. Without you, life wouldn't be worth living. _

The memory flips a page in the back of my mind, recalling his words from the ball field the other night. He never made a _life_ here, only a living. I knew that he kept his distance -never holding a serious relationship and hoped that the tattoo meant he never got over me, but could he still be in love with me? Surely if he was, he would have said so after I told him that I still love him.

Right?

Shaking my head, I derail that train of thought. Even if he did, he more than likely doesn't now. My head falls into my hands, and I groan, _I need to talk to him._

A young man arrives beside the table, setting the two pizza's, plates and utensils down, stammering a '_enjoy your meal_' as he steps away.

"Thank you," I say in a watery whisper.

I'm crying.

For God sakes, I'm crying in a rundown Pizzaria.

Quickly, I wipe my face with one of the napkins, just as the front door chimes. Mase walks my way, dressed in blue jeans and a red button-down, casual - meaning he doesn't have to work today. Good, I need him for a little while, undistracted.

"Alright, go ahead and ask," he lifts a piece of sausage pizza for himself.

"Ask what," I play dumb, picking off the pepperonis from my slice, setting them to the side to eat separately. Don't judge me.

"You know exactly what," taking a big bite, he chews for a few seconds, waiting on me to speak up. When I don't, he continues, "Eddie talked to him last night and I sat down with him this morning. He isn't angry," taking a drink, he clears his throat, "Well, he is, but he is more hurt than anything."

"Understandable," I ponder over his words, pushing my plate away from me, "I just wish he wouldn't have left."

"He didn't want to say anything he would later regret," he shrugs, taking another large bite. I cross my arms over my chest, staring him down, waiting for an explanation. He takes his time chewing, overworking the cheesy goodness.

"Rose put yourself in his shoes," he waves a hand and takes a drink.

My jaw slams the table, "I thought you would be on my side here, Mase."

"I am," he balks, "I will always be on your side, but you have to see his point of view too, Rosie. The man's pretty fucked up right now."

"He's the one that walked out in the first place," I combat.

"Yes he did," Mase nods, sliding his plate to the side, he rests his elbows on the table, folding his hands under his chin, "But one of the reasons you didn't call him right away was because you didn't want him to give up his dreams, correct?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"No, _but_, Rosie. After talking to him," leaning back, he makes a see-saw motion with his hands, "taking in your side and his, you both were wrong." _Don't yell. Don't cry. _"I don't say that to piss you off, but I am going to be honest with you. You both were kids, any way you went about it was going to hurt one or the other. You did the best you could at the time and can't be faulted for that, but now it's time to face the music. You two need to sit down, talk it out, and make things right for Xander's sake. He is what you need to focus on, not your feelings toward each other, fighting over who lied about what."

"Xander always comes first," I grit through clenched teeth, "I have always put my son first and I always will."

"Have you?" he raises his brow, "Again, not saying this to piss you off," he puts both hands up in a surrender pose. "But honestly, why didn't you tell Dimitri sooner?"

"It just never felt like the right time," I slouch, "And every time I thought it might be, something else got in the way. Between school, Yeva, my Dad's business, and trying to make ends meet for Xander, it just never happened."

He nods, moving his plate back over, grabbing another slice, "I get it. In the end, though, the 'time' would have never been right. As I said, you were both wrong at points, no matter how many ways you try to defend it. You can't go back and change the way things happened, so saddle up, put on your big girl panties, and talk shit out. It's not about you or him, who wronged who, or who did what, it's about making sure Xander gets the chance to have _both_ of his parents in his life."

"Did you tell him all of this to?"

"I did, but he wants to get his thoughts in order." He nods, shooting me a pointed look, "And I suggest you do the same."


	16. Chapter 16

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

_**Dimitri**_

* * *

There are multiple sides to every story.

Each person has their own opinion of who, what, when, why, and how something happens. I have listened to Ash's, Eddie's, and even Mama's opinions on why Rose did what she did.

It's time I hear hers.

Two days, six hundred miles, and a fuckton of money later, I am ready to sit down and talk.

After my window-pane confession and realizing that though I was angry at Rose for making decisions for me, she made the right choice. Now, before you scoff and get pissed about my saying that, hear me out.

My father was a drunk bastard who liked to beat women because he hated his life. No matter what my Mama did to please him, he was just a miserable person because he was stuck living a life he didn't want. Instead of making the money he dreamed and having a house in the city, he was forced into the small-town life, working a menial job that barely paid the bills. But, he wasn't always like that.

He and Mama met when they were sixteen. From what I remember as a small child and from the stories Karo and Sonja told me, he was once the best father in the world. He would read us bedtime stories, tuck us in, and scare away the boogie man hiding under our beds. He loved us. And he loved Mama. Yet, love wasn't enough to keep him happy. I was around eight years old when I first noticed the change. Day by day he grew more and more unhappy. And when I was nine, he walked out.

In the beginning, I thought it was my fault. Or my sisters. We were too loud, too messy. Something we were doing was upsetting him and I tried to fix it. I helped Mama around the house more, took care of my sisters -even though they were older than me. I did all the things that the 'man' of the house should do. But I wasn't a man. I was just a kid trying to figure out why my father didn't want to be here anymore.

When I was ten, he came back. Mama's smile the day he walked in the front door is one I will never forget. Brighter than every star on a clear night. I was so excited to see him, so happy to have my father back. I told him everything I did, hoping to earn his approval and make him happy. But, when he looked at me. I cowered. His emerald eyes held no light as they did before. They were cold, hard, and honestly terrifying. He wasn't my father anymore. Every day that followed his return, things continued to get worse. For all of us. Whatever he did in that year away turned him into a menace. I can't recall a time between ages ten and thirteen that he wasn't drunk. Twenty-four-seven he had something in his system. He no longer cared for us the way he once did and I found myself begging for him to leave again. Surely we would be better off without him. At thirteen, I stopped begging and praying for him to leave, and made him. Yes. You heard that right. I made him. I kicked my own father's ass. And I regret nothing.

Now, you may be wondering why I told you all of this. The answer- because I know, had I stayed in Baia, given up my dreams to raise a child I wasn't ready for, I would have turned into him. No matter how many times my family tells me I could never be like Randall, including Roza, I know that I would have been. Maybe not the wife-beater part, because I'm not a fucking pussy who needs to hit a woman to feel like a man. But - the hating the cards I have been dealt -part.

All I wanted growing up was to get out of Baia and make something of myself. I wanted to play ball, have enough money that my family would never want for anything, and be fucking happy. I have managed two out of the three so far. And as much as I already love Xander just by knowing he exists, I would have resented Rose for having to give up my dreams. I would have kicked myself for not being more careful with her and getting her pregnant, preventing me from doing what I longed for. I would have left her. Just like Randall did. Because at eighteen, I wasn't man enough to appreciate Rose in the manner she should have been appreciated. Case in point - I left without so much as a word to her. I left. She didn't force me out. She didn't do anything to drive me away. I left. By choice. And the result would have been the same had I stayed.

Once I accepted that - admitting my failure as her boyfriend- the hate, anger, self-loathing, and even the sorrow faded to black. My choices led me here.

And the next one will lead me to my family.

To Roza and Xander.

I am roughly twenty minutes from home, driving back from the coast where I spent twenty-four hours on the beach thinking of ways to make things right. Everything from apologizing for leaving - both Baia and the house the other night - all the way to where to go from here. I have said it before, and I will say it again, I am not giving up on her this time around. I am not leaving the woman who has always owned my heart. Not now. Not ever again.

I send her a quick text, letting her know I am on my way home and I'm ready to talk things out. I know she wants to tell me her side of the story, and I want to hear it. I want to know everything about Xander and his life so far.

Exiting off the highway -avoiding the Sunday evening traffic -taking a detour around the city to the back roads, arriving home right on time.

"Rose," I call out, disabling the alarm and dropping my keys into the little bowl on the island.

"Hey," she says, "Welcome home." I look upstairs to find her leaning on the loft railing. Her cherry red lips pull up in a small smile when our eyes meet, "Are you hungry? I just ordered pizza."

My stomach rumbles, providing an answer. I haven't eaten much over the last two days, and though I would love to cook something for us, I'll take any hot meal at this point. I pat my stomach and laugh, "Yeah, you could say that."

"It should be here soon." Looking over her shoulder, she bites her lip, and looks back down at me, "I just have to finish something really quick and I will be down."

"Do you need help?" I ask, stepping toward the stairs.

"No. I've got it."

I nod and watch her head toward my room. Huh? Now, I'm curious. But, I stop myself from wondering what she could be doing. I have enough to worry about with our upcoming conversation and the response I am going to get from her tonight. Best not to add on to that right now.

The pizza arrives and we sit in the living room, tearing through a whole box in less than an hour. Guess I wasn't the only hungry one. We haven't spoken since sitting down, but the hourglass is almost empty.

Biting the bullet, I take a sip of my _Shinner_ and clear my throat, "So, how do you want to do this?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything. From the minute you found out to the day you came here."

She takes a deep breath, clears her throat, and begins. I listen intently as she fills in the gaps of her earlier stories about what happened when I left. She leaves no stone unturned, no door closed. Every emotion, thought, and desire she felt over the years spills from her lips. The dam has finally been opened, and the water is surprisingly clear. I understand her not wanting to leave Baia while Babushka was sick and her father's business was up in the air. And even though it angers me to think of her struggling when I could have provided for her, I see that it allowed her to grow into the incredibly strong woman she is now. She had to fight for everything while raising Xander, never asking of a dime from me. She isn't like Tasha, looking for handouts, but rather like her Dad. And fuck if that doesn't make me proud of her.

When she is done, I release my flood, telling her everything I have come to realize over the last few days. Surprisingly, she agrees. Or maybe it's not surprising. She knows me better than anyone. Even after a decade apart, she knows me inside and out.

It's one of those things, like riding a bike, no matter how much time passes, you don't forget how to ride. Once we got over the fear of getting back on after so long, we came back together as if no time had passed at all. We can talk about anything and everything. And if we need a minute, we know that we can take one and come back without missing a beat.

Grabbing my beer, I take a quick sip, and set it between my legs, running my finger around the top. "Was he happy growing up?"

"Very. The first few years were tough. We lived with your mother until I finished school. Once I got a job, things started smoothing out."

"Can you tell me about him?"

"He's a lot like you, but it's obvious at times that he is my kid," she laughs. "He's super smart, loves to read and has this _insane_ obsession with western novels," she rolls her eyes.

"I wonder how that happened," I laugh, not hiding the pure elation I feel hearing that he loves books just like I do.

"Me either," she shakes her head, hiding her smile behind the waterfall of hair over her shoulders. "He used to run around in your duster," she pauses to laugh, "Well, he tried to run, but waddling would be more accurate. It was so big on him."

"Really?"

"Yeah, for an entire year he refused to go to bed without it. He wasn't a stuffed animal kid, but he clung to that tattered piece of leather."

"Why?"

"Because it was yours." She says as if it was a rhetorical question. "He knows about you, always has. I told him when he was ready, I would bring him here to meet you."

"That's what he meant," I mumble.

"Who?"

"Ash." I scrub a hand over my jaw, "He told me that it wasn't the job that brought you here."

"He's right. He offered me a job knowing I would need one, but it's not the only reason we came. Xander asked for his birthday to know everything about you. About us. Yeva was still hanging on, so I told him we would move soon to be closer to you. After she passed, Xander asked if we could go. There was no reason for us to stay in Baia anymore, so I made a few calls and here I am."

I nod, letting the little details soak in. She never kept the truth about me from Xander. Is that a good or a bad thing? Does he think I didn't want to be a part of his life? Or does he know that I didn't know that he exists?

Rose lays a hand on my arm, "He knows it's my fault," she says, answering the silent questions. "I told him that you didn't know I was pregnant."

"What was his response?"

"He was pissed at first, but after several discussions, he settled for knowing that I felt like shit for keeping him from you and I promised to bring him here when I could."

"How much does he know about me?" I hate how scared I am of that answer. I can't help the feeling of dread in the back of my mind that he is going to be disappointed. "I mean, does he know about…" my throat squeezes, cutting off my air supply.

"He knows the good," she reassures quickly, "I didn't tell him about the Tasha thing or the addiction problems. Almost everything he knows about you is from before you even left."

"Good," I say, air rushing into and back out of my lungs. "I just don't want him to see that side of me."

"That's one reason why I came down before the others." I lift a questioning brow, and she explains, "I didn't want you to meet him without knowing about him first. But I also didn't want him to see you at your lowest point. That wouldn't have been good for either of you."

"Smart move," I chuckle, "I wouldn't have been ready for that a week ago."

"I know." She shakes her head, her dark hair curtaining her face, "I am sorry for not telling you sooner, but I stand by my decisions."

I reach forward, trailing my fingers from her forehead down to her cheek and tuck her dark hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry for being a dick and leaving without telling you."

"I forgave you a long time ago for that," she waves me off, "Hurt like hell, but Xander healed every wound the day he was born."

"Were you happy?" I'm fishing, I know. Out of everything she has told me, it has been about making sure Xander was happy. Which, it should be, and from this day forward I will ensure to do the same. But I want to know where her heart is.

"One hundred percent," she says without missing a beat. My thumb slides down her jaw, to the corner of her mouth. "After he was born, it was impossible for my days to end badly. No matter what happened, when I tucked him into bed at night, everything was right in the world. I may not have had what I _wanted_, but I had what I needed."

That's my opening. I inch closer, "And what do you want?"

She drops her legs, "My family together." Shifts closer, "To raise Xander as a team." Licks her lips, "You."

I flick my eyes to her lips and back. She mimics me, licking her lips once more, giving me the invitation I have been dying to accept. I close the gap at a snail's pace, allowing her the chance to pull back or say stop. But, she doesn't. Her back arches, bringing her chest closer to mine.

"Roza," her name comes out in a husky whisper I barely recognize.

It's been months since I have slept with anyone, let alone someone I want as bad as I want her. But it's more than that. It's more than just pure lust driving my body. It's my fucking heart. The fleshy organ that has been beating only for her since the second she walked into Ash's office. It's my love for her.

Her lips touch mine like a whisper and that is my undoing. I slant my mouth to hers. She's soft, smooth, and tastes like fucking heaven. My body ignites, sizzling, combusting like an array of fireworks on New Year's Eve. Gently, I lay her back against the couch, snuggling my way between her thighs.

The animal in me demands more. He's a hungry bastard. And I want to give it to him. Fuck, she wants too, judging by the way her hips rock into mine. But, I won't be that guy again. She doesn't deserve to be screwed on the couch. She deserves to be ravished, worshiped, loved - to be treated like the goddess she is. The mother of my child. The only woman I have ever loved.

"Not here," I whisper against her lips.

"Bedroom," she nods, slipping out from under my body, taking off up the stairs before I can right myself onto my feet. "Someone's eager," I chuckle to myself.

I take off after her, climbing the steps two at a time, and hooking around the railing in a blink.

"Close your eyes," she yells from my room.

"Really, Roza," I laugh.

"Yes, really." I can hear her eyes roll.

Pressing one hand over my eyes, I step into the doorway, "Can I open them?"

"One second." I hear something being pushed across the floor, maybe a box or chair, I'm not sure. "Okay, now."

I find her standing in the middle of the room, hands clasped behind her back and a giant smile on her face. She flicks her eyes to the left, my eyes follow the movement, "Roza." I gasp, stepping toward the towering shelf that was not here two days ago. My fingers run along the worn leather-bound spines, "Mama's books."

"They needed a new home," she smiles, swaying in place, "And…" she bounces over to me, pointing to the lower shelves, "All of your westerns. Well, minus two that Xander wanted for the flights."

I turn around to face her, catching a glint off of a silver frame next to the bathroom door, "What's this," I point, stepping away from the shelf.

I remember the day the picture was taken, a week or so before I left for America. One of the nights her dad was out of town and I snuck over to spend the night. We are in her bed, my back against the wall, she is straddling my lap. Our faces meshed together, her tongue sticking out at the camera.

"It's one of my favorites. I didn't know it at the time, but I was pregnant with Xander in this picture."

Turning from the photo, I look down at her, cupping her cheeks between my hands. "I should have never left," I say, rolling my thumb along her jaw.

"No. Remember what you said earlier," her tone leaves no room for argument. "You did the right thing, Dimitri. It just wasn't clear to either of us at the time. We were just kids."

I know she is right. I'm right. Whichever way you want to look at it. If I had to choose between walking out on a child I didn't know about, or on one who looked up to me as his hero, I'd choose the former. Every time. I'd rather my father have never been around than to go through what we did.

Pressing my forehead to hers, I nod, "Stay with me."

"I was planning on it," she flashes her man-eater smile.

Not exactly what I meant. I am not talking about only for the night. Or even for the week until my family arrives, but forever. I want her to move in here with me, not somewhere in the city where I'd have to drive an hour to see her. I want her and Xander under this roof with me. I don't say that though, thinking it's best to leave that for the morning.

With my hands on her hips, I guide her toward the bed. "Are you sure this is what you want?" I need her to confirm before we go any further because once the lights go out, there is no turning back.

"It is right now," she says honestly.

"Are you going to regret it in the morning?"

"Are you?"

"Not a chance," my answer is automatic. There is no way in hell I would regret being with her again, even if it is just for the night.

"Me either."

I take her at her word. Who knows what tomorrow will bring, or what will happen when my family arrives. All I know is that I have been craving this woman for far too fucking long.

Dropping my mouth back to hers, I let go of the worry of our future, the pain of our past and focus on the present. The gift of this woman -_My Roza-_ here with me. I caress her lips with soft, lingering kisses. Her hands find the hem of my shirt, and I pull away briefly to help her lift if over my head, tossing it to the side. Her's following closely behind, along with her jeans, bra, and panties.

I take a step back, sweeping my eyes down her body, over her perfect perky tits, begging for my mouth, down her soft stomach to the apex of her thighs that I am willing to bet is already soaking wet and ready for me. I groan, running a hand over my face, my cock rock hard pressing against my zipper.

"You are so goddamn beautiful," I lay her back on the bed, running my nose along the column of her throat, drinking in her lavender scent. Reaching the hollow between her neck and shoulder, I press my lips firmly to her soft skin.

"Dimitri," I stop, pulling back to look at her. Her eyes gleam silver from the moonlight outside the window, pure love and desire filling her deep irises. "As much as I love the slow and sensual, I want you inside me." _Fuck me._ I am on granite levels of hard now and it is taking every single ounce of control I have not to rip off my jeans and slam into her.

I groan, dropping my forehead to her chest, "Babe, if it has been that long for you, I need to work you up first."

"Just because I haven't been with another man doesn't mean I haven't been satisfied in ten years," she scoffs.

I lift, "That's fucking hot."

"What?"

"Imagining you, playing with yourself." I bite back a groan, "Now I want to see it."

"Maybe next time," she wraps her hand around my neck, bringing me closer. Her lips are right next to my ear as she whispers, "I need you, Baby."

I shucked my jeans and briefs in record time, my dick springing free at full attention to salute her. Gripping my shaft, I rub base to tip, squeezing at the head and run my thumb over the bead of liquid. With my other hand, I drag one finger between her folds, pushing into her hot wet center. She lets out a soft gasp and I groan at how ready she is for me. Adding another I stretch her out and my thumb finds the rise of her clit, pressing firmly on the little bundle.

"God, Dimitri," she pants, and I love the way my name sounds on her lips. I had almost forgotten how sweet it is.

Her moans grow louder, her breathing picking up as I keep up a steady pace. Soft _Oh, God's_ and _Yes's_ fall from her luscious lips and I can't stop without taking her there. I know she wants the real thing, but I want to see her come undone on my fingers first. It doesn't take long before her back arched off the bed, her mouth opening in a wide _O_ and I feel her walls clench down.

I grab a condom from the nightstand and roll it on in a matter of seconds not giving her much time to come down from her current high. Inch by inch I sink into her. Her heat envelopes me, wrapping my dick in a tight blanket of her. Sparks fly over my skin, sizzling through my veins. And when I'm completely in, electricity tingles through every part of my body and I feel like I have found my way home.

This house has never been home. Texas has never been home. Nowhere would ever be home if she isn't with me. It took me ten years, countless bottles of vodka and beers, and a fuckton of women to remember that without her - life isn't worth living.

Neither of us talks as I set a steady rhythm. We're just soft moans, little grunts, and skin to skin as we move together as one. I want to tell her how right this is, how much I love the way she fits me. I want to say every dirty thought I have about her, but I don't. I keep my mouth shut and enjoy the feeling of her warmth wrapped around me. The way she runs her fingers down my chest, tracing the lines of my tattoo. The look of love in her eyes and pray that mine is showing the same thing.

I'm on the edge, ready to fire, so I slip my hand between us pushing her toward her release. I am nothing if not a gentleman in the bedroom, she will let go before I do. The first one doesn't count by the way. It doesn't take but three rotations of my thumb to send her back into the stratosphere and I follow right behind her, grunting through the greatest fucking orgasm I have ever had.

With every pulse of my cock, images flash through my mind, the past, the present, and what I hope to God is my future. I try not to focus on anything but the present, but I can't help but think about the latter. A future with her next to me every day and night, raising our son together in this house. Being a true family. And adding to it.

But I can't say any of that, not yet.

For right now, I am going to enjoy being able to fall asleep with her beside me tonight. Tomorrow is a new day and a new chance to figure things out. I just hope we are on the same page when the sun comes up.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Chapter Seventeen**_

_**Rose**_

* * *

I am not a morning person.

Never have been.

But I could get used to this.

Soft lingering kisses along my shoulder, down my arm, across my chest. Calloused hands smoothing over my ribs, stomach, hips, to the valley between my legs. Dexterous strong fingers working their way through my folds, gliding through the wetness only he can bring, and sliding inside of me, curling to hit the perfect spot.

"God, yes," I moan, rolling onto my back and spreading my legs wider for him.

"Good morning, babe," his lips brush mine.

"Mmm.." my brain to mouth filter hasn't quite caught up with my body. Whereas my skin is on fire from his touch, my vocal abilities are limited to soft moans and simple _yes's_.

It's been so long since I have been touched in any type of intimate way by a man. I could have given in to the many opportunities that presented themselves over the years. But it wouldn't have been this.

Being with Dimitri is all I ever needed. _Wanted._ Be it in the flesh when we were teenagers or the many fantasies I acted out in my mind with a twenty-speed friend. I often wondered - in the early years of Xander's life - if I hadn't had him, would I have moved on from Dimitri. Would I have moved out of Baia long before now? Chased my dreams? Or followed him to America in the end? Attempt to fix what was broken between us?

I never found the answer to those questions. Having believed that this is the way it was meant to be. I don't believe in destiny or fate, per se, but I do believe that every day we make choices that are reflected in our futures. That every stone we lay paves the way to our forever. We are meant to live, to love, hurt and heal. To shoot for the moon, because even if we miss, we land amongst the stars.

And with Dimitri, stars are all I see.

Behind my eyelids, as he flicks his tongue over my peaked nipples, turning them into steel when he sucked it between his full soft lips. And when he drags himself down, nuzzling his face between my thighs, drinking in my arousal, I see every freaking planet in the solar system. I'm sailing through the galaxies in a rocketship of pure pleasure. I have never felt this good - rather, this amazing. He is taking me to levels I have never been to before.

I try not to dwell on the fact that he learned so much from being with so many women, but the difference in his skill is undeniable. We were each other's firsts. The learning curve. We had to figure out through trial and error what felt good and what didn't. Now though, he isn't hesitant in his moves. He's skilled, precise in the way his fingers work against my walls, his mouth lavishing at my clit. And his cock. Oh, God. He most certainly discovered what angle would provide the greatest pleasure for me and him.

Dimitri Belikov has a Ph.D. in making a woman come. I just wish it didn't take half of Dallas to earn him that degree.

"Roza," he brushes his thumb over my cheek, drying my tears, "Babe, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lie. He knows it too, shooting me a _not-buying-it _look. But what other choice do I have? Confess that I hate the fact that he has slept with so many women while I spent the last decade in celibacy raising our son. Yeah, not happening. I made my choices, and I stand by them. He had every right to do what he did. It doesn't mean it hurts any less though.

Grabbing the blanket, he lays beside me, pulling me to his chest and covers our bodies. "You regret it," his voice heavy with despair.

I want to tell him I don't, honestly, I swear. I have absolutely no regret about last night, hell even this morning. I could never regret being with him. I just don't know how to turn my mind off at times. I don't know how to let go of things I had no control over. It's something I have struggled with my entire life. Feeling as if I am not good enough, or not worth the effort. That everyone, no matter how much they say or show how much they care, they all leave at some point. Mom. Dad. Yeva. Dimitri. Some don't have a choice. Some do. Either way, it happens. That's what scares me. Soon enough he is going to realize I am not worth the fight. Just like he did ten years ago. And if I am not worth it, will Xander be? Will he care enough to stick around for his son, or will he run as soon as things get hard?

Part of me wants to believe he loves me still and he will fight harder this time around. The way he made love to me last night spoke louder than his voice ever could. He didn't need to speak the words for me to know what his heart was screaming. I could feel in the way his heartbeat matched mine. The way he filled me so perfectly. By the breathy moans, tender kisses, even in the force of which he let go. But the most telling sign. The way he held me. He clung to me as if he was terrified that I was a dream. A beautiful nightmare that he would eventually wake from.

Then there is a part of me - _deep-rooted fear_\- that says that is exactly what this is. We are living in the moment, but when the others arrive we will be forced to wake up and smell the coffee. He is accustomed to his way of living, as I am to mine. Sooner or later, he will miss that life and will go back to it. And once again, I will be left to handle everything on my own.

"I don't," I say.

"Then why are you crying? Did I hurt you?"

_Yes._ "No. Not like that."

"Like what?" with two fingers under my chin, he tilts my head back. His eyes are earnest, filled with compassion.

"Physically. You didn't hurt me physically."

"Then what is it, Roza?"

Pressing one hand to his chest, I shift myself to sit up, wrapping my arms around my legs. I look everywhere but at him - to the picture, I put up next to the bathroom door, the faint orange glow beyond the tinted windows, and the bookshelf filled with his favorite novels.

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"The same thing I have always been scared of," I bite my lip to stop the trembling, "you're going to get tired of me and leave. I've seen some of the women you have been with and I am not them."

"No, you're not," his voice is hard, but not angry. Sitting up, he turns on the bed to mirror me. We are both naked, in more than just the absence of clothing. "You're not like them. You are so much more. Those women meant nothing to me, Roza. Nothing."

"Then why did you sleep with them?"

"No answer that I give will be good enough." _Got that right._ "But they don't matter anymore. They are all in my past and you," reaching forward, he takes my hand in his, "You are all I want for my future." _Then say it. Tell me I am worth the fight. Tell me you won't leave again. Tell me you love me. _"You and Xander. I want to be there for both of you. I want to spend the rest of our lives living right here in this house as a family. I want you next to me, and I want to be beside you through every good and bad day. I want to help raise Xander to be a better man than I was. I want it all. With you. Not anyone else. But," my heart skids to a halt. "It's not only about what I want. What do you want, Rose?"

"I told you," I say as air rushes back into my lungs.

"You said you wanted us to raise Xander as a team. To have your family together. But that's not all, is it? There is something else. I can see it in your eyes."

"What I want, you can't give. No one can."

"Try me."

I lick my lips, filling my lungs to the fullest capacity, breathing out in a rush, "I want to be worth it."

"You are," he balks, stunned by my admission.

"Obviously not," I scoff, "Mom left me because I wasn't worth her time. You left because I wasn't worth the wait or fight..."

"Stop," he orders, cutting me off. "I left because I was a fucking idiot and a selfish asshole. I didn't leave because I didn't love you or want to be with you. I left because I wanted out of that town as quickly as possible. That was my choice and I will never stop hating myself for how stupid it was."

He is saying all the right things, but not the one I need to hear. It's one thing to see it in his eyes, it's another to hear him say it. I want to hear his voice speak the words. It may sound stupid but to me, it's everything. I want to see, feel, and hear his true feelings. "Did you love me? I mean, honestly, did you ever truly love me?"

He recoils as if I had just slapped him, "I have always loved you. I loved you then and…" his Adam's apple bobs with a deep swallow, "I love you still, Roza. Always have. Always will. And if you let me, I will spend every day of forever proving to you just how much. I will show you every single day how much you are worth to me."

He's telling the truth. Everything in me confirms that his words are one hundred percent honest. The remains of my shattered walls clear away - not a single brick left behind in the way of my heart. There is nothing left to rebuild the once towering, impenetrable barriers. It's open for the taking. Or reclaiming rather, considering it has always been his.

I just hope he doesn't destroy what's left of it.

"Promise me one thing," I say.

"Anything."

"If at any point you want out," he opens his mouth, and I raise a hand to silence him, "Just listen. If at any point something shifts and you want out, tell me. Don't leave again without talking to me about it. It's not just me you have to worry about anymore. It's Xander too, and I won't let you hurt him the way you hurt me back then."

"I promise you on everything thing I am, Rosemarie Mazur, that I will never leave again." His eyes remain locked on mine, tone even. I nod, accepting his promise. If I have learned anything about him in the last few days it's that he isn't the boy who walked away from his family anymore. He is a man with regrets, pain, and a desire to right his wrongs. The least I can do is allow him the chance.

He says with a soft brush of his lips against mine, "I love you."

"I love you too."

He pushes me to my back, and I sink into the comfort of the pillows behind me. His lips trail down my body once more, on a fast track to finish what they started earlier. And this time, I don't stop him. I don't overthink every other woman who has ever had the privilege of his touch. I let go and enjoy the feeling of his tongue gliding along my slit, flicking over my swollen bundle.

"You taste like fucking heaven, Rose," he moans into me, sending vibrations through my core.

"Oh, God," I moan, rocking my hips against his face, and he growls in return. My hands find their way through his hair, holding him tighter to me, my hips rocking faster and harder in complete abandon, giving in to the ecstasy of him. Us. Liquid fire boiled in my belly, spreading rapidly to the apex of my thigh, my legs, all the way to my toes and back up.

"Oh, God. Oh, God, I'm coming. Oh, God." I can't help but voice my pleasure as I come undone on his face. But he doesn't stop. He keeps licking, sucking, drinking in my orgasm until he decides I have had enough.

It will never be enough though. I will never get enough of him. The way he makes love to me - fucks and eats me like I am the feast of the last supper - will never get old.

Grabbing a condom from the nightstand, he sheaths himself and slides home, reaching a spot so deep it should be illegal. And I know it will never be enough for him either. S_o tight, warm, fucking perfect, _he repeats those last two words over and over, sending a calming air over me. Our bodies move in sync, molding together as one in harmony.

He's right. It's perfect.

* * *

The next four days fly by, between our _Home Run's for Hope _benefit for childhood cancer, a two-day city tournament to support fallen law enforcement, and countless rounds of our favorite horizontal activities, we are exhausted. Our family arrives first thing tomorrow morning, meaning today we are preparing for their arrival. Grocery shopping, cleaning, organizing the rooms and enjoying the last few hours of freedom we have.

"We should probably figure out how to tell everyone," I say placing the last dish in the sink for him to wash.

We just finished dinner - I finally got to taste his famous marinaded steak, can't lie, it was freaking amazing - he offered to do the dishes, while I took charge of cleaning the counters.

"What do you mean? They all know Xander is mine, right?"

"Well, yeah, but…" I jump at the crash of ceramic hitting the wood floor, "Shit."

"But what?" I flinch at the tone of his voice.

"Vika never accepted the fact that you and I had a relationship. She isn't going to be happy to see us together, let alone 'together'," I sketch air quotes to emphasize my meaning, "And not to mention Adrian has a few words for you as well."

"As far as I am concerned, what happens between us is none of their concern." He pushes off the sink and walks around the island to grab a broom from the pantry. "I let Vika in the way once, I won't do that again, Rose. She doesn't have to like it, but she will have to accept it."

"I agree. I'm just simply saying that maybe we should keep the touching to a minimum while she is here." I take the dustpan, holding it for him to sweep the shattered pieces up, "It's only for a month. When the girls leave, we can go back to the way we are right now."

"The girls? What about Mama and Adrian?"

"About that...they are moving here. Permenately."

"Seriously?" his eyes light up, excitement flooding his face. "Mama is staying too?"

"And Adrian," I add, emptying the dustpan into the trash and putting the broom back in the closet.

"Yeah, yeah," he waves that little detail off. "I can't believe Mama wanted to move here though."

"She misses you." Hopping onto my freshly cleaned counter, I open my arms to him, pulling his body against mine. "Besides, with all of the girls living in different cities, Yeva's passing and me and Xander moving here, she didn't have a reason to stay in Baia anymore."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I wanted one thing to be a surprise," my hands find the hem of his shirt and I tuck my fingers into the waistband of his sweats. "A good surprise."

"It's a very good surprise," he nuzzles his nose into my neck, breathing in deeply. "Do you have any other surprises up your sleeve?"

"Nope, not yet at least."

He drops his lips to my forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than normal. With two fingers under my chin, he lifts my face higher, "I love you. You know that right?"

"Yes, I do." I tug at his waistband, bringing him impossibly closer. His length presses hard against my center. I rock forward, "And I love you."

For a second, we're silent, eyes locked, studying one another. His brown depths captivate me. Pulling me into the security that is him. His broad frame hovers over my smaller one, protective and possessive at the same time. He's gentle when he lowers his mouth to mine -his lips velvety soft and warm. I drink in the tenderness of this kiss.

Over the last few nights, we have been frenzied - hungry for the other on levels that lead to rough demanding kisses and brutal rounds between the sheets. And the shower wall. Or the bathroom counter. None of the experiences were a disappointment in the least, but there is something magical when he kisses me like this. The way he sneaks one hand around my hip to the small of my back, molding my body to his with the gentle pressure. I have no desire to push him away. No fear of waking up in the morning without him beside me. Not anymore.

I tried. I really did. I wanted to fight the old connection and focus on Xander. To give my son the best life I could, including his father. But I couldn't deny the love I hold for Dimitri. There was no hope in the end that we would be able to keep things platonic while raising our son.

Once I accepted that fact, things became surprisingly clear.

It's him. It's always been him. He is the one whose soul mirrors mine. He is the only one to ever see the darkest corners of my mind and still love me at the end of the day because he knows that same darkness. He understands me in ways no one else ever has or will. He loves me to the point words alone can not describe the depth at which he feels for me. And I for him. I see it in his every move. Since the moment I got here and first laid eyes on him in Mase's office. He tried to close himself off because the simple scent of my skin and the sound of my voice struck cords deep inside of him. Playing a song neither of us has heard in a very long time. I was the same, fighting a losing battle against the melody of our souls.

For him, I am worth it.

For him, I am perfectly imperfect.

For him, I am the miracle that makes his life complete.

And tomorrow, when Xander steps off that plane to meet Dimitri for the first time, everything we have been through will have been worth it.

Our choices.

Our mistakes.

Our downfalls.

Everything will be well worth the pain.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Chapter Eighteen**_

_**Dimitri**_

* * *

_Gate 32B - Los Angels - Arrived. _

I shove my hands in my pockets to hide how sweaty they have become and rock on my heels at the bottom of the escalators. Rose stands beside me, one arm looped through mine, her other hand squeezing my forearm.

"It's going to be okay, you know that right," she smiles up at me.

"Yeah," I say around the ball of nerves lodged in my throat. There's no hiding it. I'm scared shitless right now.

Rose and I have reconnected - many times - over the last week, but that was only one hurdle I had to get over. Seeing Mama and the girls, plus Adrian is another. But the biggest is meeting Xander.

I laid awake last night for hours, 'what if' questions running through my mind. I don't think I slept for more than an hour before waking up once again from dreams of everything going wrong. Eventually, I gave up on sleeping and went into the garage to run off some of the nerves.

This is all new to me. Being a father. And I can't help but think that I will fail the same way mine did. I'm not starting with the best track record already, having been absent up until this point in his life. How do I know I won't fail him later on?

When I asked Rose that after she found me on the treadmill, her answer was simple - _you don't._ Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but I needed it. The way she put it makes sense. I don't know that I won't ever fail him, but I can try every day to be the best man and father possible. As long as I give him my all, I can not fail. One thing my father didn't do. He gave up. He didn't want to work to keep his family together anymore. If there is one thing I am good at, it's accomplishing what I set out to do. Just like I did when I first moved to America. I fought to become the best. And I will fight for this.

"There they are," she bounces on her toes, pointing to the top floor where I see Karo and Sonja first.

Age is evident on both of their faces. They are both mature, weathered from years of providing for their children. Paul - my oldest nephew - hops on the moving stairs in front of his mother, a little girl about ten beside him. That must be Zoya - Karo's daughter. She was born after I left, but I knew Karo was pregnant beforehand. Sonja steps on next, her daughter Katya beside her. Rose filled me in on that story a little bit, but I'm hoping to get the full detailed version from Sonja. She was never the one to have flings, at least not back then, so it caught me off guard to know she had a baby with a man she barely knew.

Mama, Vika, Adrian, and Xander fall into step behind them. Adrian is holding Xander's hand, pointing toward Rose and me with a smile. My heart leaps into my throat seeing him for the first time. I looked through his baby book a hundred times in the last two days, but seeing him in the flesh. I don't know how to explain it.

Rose had said that when he was born and they placed him on her chest, she realized that it is one hundred percent possible to fall in love at first sight. That the second she held him, she knew that she could never love another person as much as she loves him. She would do anything and everything to protect and provide for him.

I feel that.

I understand it.

And I haven't even held him yet.

"Uncle Dimka," Paul shouts, running toward me once he reaches the bottom. He was only two - almost three- when I left and no taller than my knee. He was too young to understand why I left or feel the effects the way everyone else did, so I'm not surprised that he is excited to see me.

"Geez, Paul, look at you, kid," I grip his face between my hands - which mind you, is level with mine - and pull him into a giant hug.

"I've missed you, Dimka."

"I missed you too, Pauly." I squeeze him one good time and let him go to hug Rose. I smile as he bends down to pick her up and spin her around. She kept a good relationship with him.

Karo and Sonja exchange a glance - smirks rising on their lips in sync. That can't be good. _Whack. Whack. _In tandem, they smack me on the arm. Hard.

"I deserve that." I rub my upper arms.

"You deserve so much more, but that will happen when the children aren't around," Karo says.

Katya and Zoya fall in line next, each taking a side and wrapping their arms around my waist. It doesn't last long. They don't know me the way Paul does. Hopefully, over the next few weeks, I can change that. I'd like to spend time with each of them. My sisters included. I have always wondered, thought about what they may be doing and how their lives were coming along. Now is my chance to reconnect and fix some of my mistakes from the past. I know they will all be returning home after New Years, but I hope when they leave, it's not another decade before I get to see them again.

"Mama!" a little voice breaks out over the hum of people moving around us.

"Oh, my baby," Rose wraps her arms around Xander in a vice-like grip. "I missed you so much," she cries, peppering his little face in kisses.

I don't know that my heart can expand any more than it has, but each second I see my son holding his mother, another puff of air flows in. It's painful. And beautiful.

He hasn't paid me any mind yet, which I am trying not to read as a negative sign. He missed his mother, he should focus on her first. Speaking of mothers.

"Ma." I open my arms to my Mama, letting her bury her face against my chest. "Don't cry."

If she cries, I will cry.

I stand by my previous statement. With my arms around her shoulders, everything around me fades. Few things in this world have ever brought me peace. The diamond is one. Roza's embrace is another. But the true sense of complete peace comes from feeling my mother's warmth.

"Comrade," Roza calls, pulling my attention to her. Xander is standing in front of her, giving me a full view of him. He took after me where height is concerned. At ten years old he is only a head shorter than Rose. He has my eyes and jawline, but Rose's hair. I like the combination. "I have someone I'd like you to meet."

Stepping forward, I bend to one knee, evening out the playing field. I don't know if it's appropriate for me to bear hug him - which my fingers are twitching to pull him in for one - so I stick out my hand, "Hello, Xander."

He looks up at Rose, smiles, and launches forward, wrapping his arms around my neck. I budge only a little, catching him rather quickly and snake my arms around his back, pulling him tightly to my chest. I close my eyes, soaking in the feel of holding my son. His scent. Warmth. The way his chest rises and falls in shaky breathes.

There's an automatic click inside my heart. Shifting the beat into a steady deep rhythm_. _It's familiar. Undeniable. And fucking amazing.

_This is love at first sight. This love is forever. _

When I first met Rose, I never imagined I could love someone so quickly. It wasn't a first sight kind of thing. I was twelve. I didn't know what love truly was back then. It wasn't until I was sixteen that I figured out that this feeling inside me when I saw her was something more than friendship. More than familiarity and comfort. It was a need, a burning ache in the middle of my chest whenever she was around. Growing worse when she wasn't. I craved her. Needed her. And I didn't even realize just how much until long after I had left.

She was my angel through some of the roughest times I have ever experienced. Having seen me through the final year of my father's torture. She supported me after I lost my control and beat him within an inch of his life - hell, she loved me after seeing the monster that lives inside of me. She was my first kiss. First love. _Only love._ And after ten years of no contact - she showed up when I couldn't admit just how deep I had gotten. And after hearing the things I have done, the women I have been with, she is still here. Fighting to bring me back from the trenches.

And this time, she isn't alone.

Rose wraps her arm around my back, the scent of vanilla grounding me. Her lips press against my temple, "I love you," she says, wiping a trail of tears from my cheek.

Opening my eyes, I meet her gaze. Love - _happiness_ \- fill her chocolate depths. "I love you too."

Xander pulls away from me, looking between Rose and me. His young face is stained with tears - it's an emotional meeting for both of us. "Mama? Papa? Can we go home now?"

I laugh, hiding the way his question hits me square in the chest. It never once occurred to me that Xander may never have felt like he had a home either. From everything Rose has told me, he has had a wonderful life growing up in Baia. Yeah, she struggled, but he was always surrounded by people who love him unconditionally.

We have lived opposite lives. Where he always had someone around - I had everything you could dream of, yet no one to share it with. When Rose showed up, my house turned into a home. No longer just an empty shell of bent metal and drywall to hide me from the outside world, but a dwelling full of love and support. It became home to me. And I want nothing more for it to be home for Xander. A place of love, comfort, and security.

"Yeah, buddy. We're going home."

* * *

Once back at the house, Adrian took the kids to the pool house, allowing them to rest from the flights, while everyone else gathered in the living room. Mama and the girls took their seats on the sectional in front of the fireplace, and I sat down in the single chair, Rose to take her place on the arm beside me.

Rose and I had discussed earlier in the day that we would air out the dirty laundry as soon as possible. I know they all have their resentments toward me - either for leaving or lack of contact in general, whatever the case may be. I'd rather wash it all away now than deal with stains later down the line.

"Who wants to start," Rose breaks through the tense silence.

"I will," Vika pipes up immediately. "I want to know why we're here. Why - after all this time - did you call on us now?"

"I didn't." resting my elbows on my knees, I fold my hands together in front of me. "Ash decided that the best way for me to rebuild myself was by bringing you all here. He figured having my family around would help me. Mentally."

"So if it wasn't for your manager, you wouldn't have reached out," Karo asks.

"Basically. I didn't want you all to know how far I had fallen. I didn't deserve your sympathy or support."

"You got that shit right," Vika snorts.

"Viktoria," Mama gasps.

"I'm sorry, Mama, but it's true," standing from her seat, she walks around to the other side of the table. "When we needed you, you weren't there. You left us. And now we are supposed to save you?"

"I'm not asking you to save me," Rose lays her hand on my arm, telling me to let her keep talking.

"But you are. That's why we're here. Because you couldn't keep your dick in your pants. You fucked up - fucked around, and started drinking yourself to death. You put yourself here, not us."

"No one forced you to come," I say.

"You're right. But that's what you do for your family. When they call - when they _need _you - you show up. Whether you want to or not." Her anger has shifted into something sorrowful, "We called. We emailed. We did everything we could to get you to come home when Babushka was dying and you ignored us. When Karo needed help with Zoya's father, where were you? Or when Katya's father beat Sonja so bad she had to spend three days in the hospital, where were you? You never answered. You were too busy living your lavish life here." Tears rain down her cheeks, dripping onto the front of her dress, "But when we heard you needed us, we came. We didn't ask unnecessary questions. We didn't weigh our options. We packed our fucking bags, made arrangements where needed, and booked our flights. But when _we _needed you, where were you, Dimka?"

I bite my tongue until it bleeds, using the pain to counteract the pure fucking hate I feel for myself. My sisters were hurt. They needed me. And I wasn't there for them. Rose had warned me that things were not better without me there, but I had no idea it could have been that bad.

"Doing things I am not proud of," I say honestly. "I did a lot of things I can't take back. I made choices that affected every single one of you. And I am sorry."

"Well, as long as you're sorry," Sonja snorts.

"I don't know what more I can say. I can tell you all a million times how awful I feel for the way I left. Or the way I cut off all contact with you all. I can tell you time and time again that I regret it, but in the end, it's not going to change anything. Nothing I say or do now will take back the things I did or didn't do for you." I drag a hand through my hair and let out a deep breath, "The only thing I can do now is change. I want too. I want to be a better brother, son, and father. I want to shift my life from the way I was and be the man I should have been."

"Why couldn't you have done that ten years ago?" Vika asks.

"Because I wasn't man enough then." I look up to Rose, a small reassuring smile plays on her lips. She understands. We have talked about this many times since she showed up.

"Why now, though," Sonja asks.

"I didn't have a choice. If it wasn't for Ash pulling the strings he did, I don't know that I would see next year, let alone my next season. Two weeks ago, I was ready for everything to end. I had reached the peak of my career - accomplished my life-long goal - I had nothing more to fight for. But Ash," I laugh, recalling his tough love meeting, "He knew things I didn't about you all. He gave me a reason to fight instead of running again."

"Do you really want to fix things, or are you only going along with this because you have to?" Karo asks.

"No. I want to. I have cut back on drinking and I don't go out anymore. I want to focus on getting to know Xander, spending time with all of you, and preparing for my next year." Rubbing my jaw, I sigh, "Coach Tanner said I am on the chopping block, so if I don't improve, I will be put back down. Not only will that hurt my career, but it would take me away from Rose and Xander again. I can't let that happen."

Vika looks between Rose and me, waving a finger back and forth, "Are you two…"

"We are simply co-parenting," Rose answers before I can say anything, "We want to make things comfortable for Xander. He is our only concern at this time."

I wouldn't call what we did this morning platonic. I was ready to tell them all we are together, guess she has a different plan. I know she is worried about what Vika will say or think about our relationship, but sooner or later, the truth will come out.

"And what are we supposed to do exactly?" Sonja asks, "I get why Rose and Xander would be here, and Mama, but what role are the rest of us supposed to play?"

"First and foremost, yourselves. I want to mend the bridges. It's not only part of addiction recovery but for my mind and heart. Rose will be taking pictures at random for social media to help with my ratings, however, I am not worried about those. I want to focus on rebuilding my relationship with you all."

"What happens when we go home?" Vika asks, "Are you going to go back to forgetting we exist?"

"No. Not a chance. I hope to travel back at some point, or I could fly you all out whenever you wanted. I don't have internet out here, but my phone works well enough for calls. I hope we don't lose contact again when you return to Russia. I promise to keep up on my end."

"You don't have internet?" Adrian's voice sounds off behind me. I hadn't even heard him come in.

"No. The property is too far out to have a stable connection. I prefer it that way."

"Little, please tell me our house isn't in the boondocks?"

"Your house?" I look to Rose for an answer. I thought we had a clear understanding that she and Xander, along with Mama and Adrian, were to stay here.

"I haven't found one yet, but we will be in the city. Shouldn't be a problem," she gives me a -_we will talk about it later _\- glare. "I'm going to go check on Xander, want to come with?"

I follow her outside, grabbing her wrist once I secure the back door, "A house in the city?"

"I haven't had a chance to talk to them about living here yet," she whispers, checking around me to make sure no one is listening. "Let the dust settle and we can all sit down and talk it out."

"You're not leaving," I say sternly, "Even if he wants to, you are staying right here."

"I will do whatever is best for Xander."

Mama has spoken. And even though I want to demand otherwise, I know she is right. I'd like to assume Xander would be happy here, but if for some reason he isn't, we will figure something out. The last thing I want is to push him into anything. He's just a kid going through a lot of changes. His comfort is my priority.

"Hey, Papa," speaking of the little man. "Can we go swimming?"

"Of course," I smile, ruffling his hair, "How about after dinner, you, me, and mama jump in? Sound good?"

He looks to Rose, batting his eyes just like she used to do to me. I laugh, knowing if it has the same effect on her that it had on me, she will be putting on her suit as soon as the table is cleared.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Chapter Nineteen**_

_**Dimitri**_

* * *

Things I have learned being a father:

_One: The way to their heart isn't through your wallet. _

Growing up, we didn't have a lot. Mama worked tirelessly to provide us with the bare essentials. If we didn't _need _it, we didn't have it. Don't get me wrong- I love Mama for working the way she did to care for us. I never once got upset that we couldn't have everything that the other kids had. But I can't lie and say I was never jealous of them.

And knowing Rose struggled in the beginning, I wanted to give him the things he may have missed out on. I wanted him to be happy and comfortable.

I bought him a new Xbox gaming system, a dozen different games, and put a flat-screen TV in the pool house for him to be able to play whenever he wanted. He hasn't touched it. I took him to the store, telling him anything he wanted for his room, he could have. He chose a discounted bookshelf, one picture for his wall, and plain blue and white comforter. When I asked him if he wanted books, movies, or a TV for his room, he just shook his head.

After a week of thinking of things I could get him to make him feel more comfortable here, I finally decided to ask Rose what to do. Her response hit me harder than a Mac Truck on the interstate. _"You. Your attention. Your time. Your love." _

That night, I bought him a bat, glove, and a bucket of baseballs. We play every day together.

_Two: They see everything. _

Mainly for the fact that you don't notice they are even there.

I am not used to having anyone in my house, so it goes without saying, I don't have the habit of checking my surroundings before saying or doing something. I promised Rose that while the girls were here, I would keep my hands to myself - for the most part - and I wouldn't drink.

I have failed on both accounts.

Xander has caught me - not once, but three times - sneaking a drink when I thought everyone had gone to bed. And Zoya has caught Rose and I making-out like teenagers in the hall - signaling everyone in the house with a very loud, '_eww'_.

I learned to close -and lock- the door before engaging in certain activities with Rose. And I tossed my bottle of _Tito's_ in the trash. He is more important than a drink.

_Three: There is no such thing as the perfect parent. _

As much as I try - _and believe me, I am trying -_ I am not capable of being a perfect father. No one is. No matter what, you will make mistakes. It's inevitable. I keep reminding myself that I can't be any worse than I already have been, so everything I do from here on out is an improvement. At the same time, being an absent parent meant I couldn't disappoint him. Now that he is here, I fear I will fail him at every turn. I'm not sure I will ever get over that fear, so for now, I just keep moving in hopes that I am doing it right.

And sitting here on the deck, watching Xander knock ball after ball from the tee, I know I'm heading in the right direction.

"Hey Comrade," Rose drags a hand over my shoulders, resting on my left side, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"You just have this far away look, that's all."

I cover her hand with mine, squeezing gently, "Sometimes it still takes me by surprise. Seeing him. It's just…"

"I know." Her warm lips press against my forehead, a tender understanding.

It's been three weeks since my family arrived, and though I have moved mountains with Xander - I know the worse has yet to come. Karo and Sonja have both expressed their issues and anger with me, but I know it's far from over with them. Vika, on the other hand, hasn't said much since the first night. And Mama - well she has been the easiest of them all. A mother's love is a powerful thing. She holds no anger about my leaving or disappointment for the things I've done while here. She wishes I had done things differently. That I hadn't fallen the way I did. But, like Babushka told Roza, _"It's time to rebuild with the bricks around me."_

The only one who has yet to say anything to me is Adrian.

It's only a matter of time now before he does. I kind of just wish he would get it over with. From what Rose told me about his feelings when I left -mainly geared toward the way she reacted and seeing the destruction of my actions - he hates me more than anyone.

Adrian and I were close when we were younger - bonding over the fact that our fathers were pieces of shit. _Runs in the family_ \- he used to say. No doubt that is how he sees me now.

When his father tossed him out - cutting off his trust fund and leaving him with nothing but the clothes on his back - he came to Mama for help. She took him in without a thought. For months, he slept on the couch or the floor of my room, until Karo took off for college.

In the beginning, a small part of me laughed at his shortcomings. His side of the family has always had money. Nathan - his father - was the head of a major corporation that spanned all over Russia and parts of the middle east. Adrian never wanted for anything. He was spoiled rotten. I envied him. After he moved in, I overheard a conversation with Mama and everything became surprisingly clear. Where Randall walked out on us and physically harmed Mama - Nathan did far worse to Adrian.

I felt guilty for not seeing the signs, knowing what it's like to be in a toxic environment, but my guilt transformed into support. We were no longer cousins. We became brothers. Helping each other deal with the fragments of our broken childhoods. We leaned on each other. Confided in one another. And I walked away from him just as easily as I did everyone else.

The more I look back on the effect my decisions had on those I cared most about, the more I hate myself. I try not to. But I do. Rose continually tells me, _'what's done is done'_ and I get that. I can't go back and undo anything. I have to accept my choices and move on with them. I have. For the most part. It's just difficult to keep finding out more and more things that happened because of it.

"Papa," Xander's holler pulls me from the darkening thoughts. "Did you see that?" He's pointing to a ball laying a few feet shy of the fence line - which is about a hundred and thirty feet away. Now, that may not seem like much, but for a kid who only picked up a bat two weeks ago, that's pretty impressive.

"That's awesome. Let me see you do it again." I rise to my feet and walk closer to where the tee is set up.

Placing another ball, he brings his bat up. Hands in. Elbow up. Extend and rotate. Follow through. _Ding. _The ball soars off the tee, easily clearing what would be second base, landing in the 'outfield'.

I hold a fist out for knocking, "That's what I am talking about!"

He bumps my fist, "Do you think I will be as good as you someday?"

"Keep practicing like that, you'll be better than I ever was."

A flash catches my eye, exposing Rose's stealthy attempt at taking a candid photo. She has been going crazy with catching the little moments Xander and I have. None of which - mind you - are being used on any social media platform. I don't want him being exposed to that life. Not yet. Eventually, it will become impossible to hide him, but I want to protect him from the vultures on the internet for as long as I can.

She smiles, shrugging her shoulders to say, _I can't help it._

I shake my head and grab the half-empty bucket of baseballs, "Come on, Xander. Help me clean up and then it's time for showers and dinner."

We pick up the rubber bases, balls, and the tee, securing everything inside the shed. I send him to the pool house to shower, while Rose follows me to the main house. Alone time has been restricted to a few minutes here and there, or a coveted hour or two after the others have gone to bed. I hate having to sneak around with her like we're kids again. She insists that she stay in the guest house with Xander until she talks to Viktoria about us. I don't understand why she doesn't just tell her, but I am smart enough not to argue with her about it. I'll take the little moments I get with her for now, but something's got to give soon. Waking up without her next to me isn't working for me.

"Shower or bed?" She asks, pulling her shirt over her head as soon as she clears the doorway.

I kick my shoes off, "Shower. We don't have much time."

"They left about half an hour ago. It will take them an hour just to shop and then another half to drive home. We've got plenty of time."

"Yeah, but Xander will be done showering in like ten minutes. And you know Adrian will suspect if neither of us comes back for him."

"Adrian knows."

I pause with my jeans halfway down. "He knows?"

"He suspected as soon as they got off the plane. I couldn't lie to him when he asked."

I'm trying not to let her naked body distract me from what she is saying, but my brain is shutting down from the amount of blood flowing to my dick. _Adrian knows. _I wonder if that's why he hasn't said anything to me yet.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath and focus, "What did he say?"

"Nothing really, he's okay with it." Her eye twitches and my erection dissipates.

"I thought we were done with the lies, Rose," I say, pulling my jeans back up. I button them and head toward the door, pissed off for more than one reason. Rose yells at me to stop, but I ignore her. It will take her a minute to redress, in which time, I will already be in the pool house.

I can see him sitting on the couch with Paul through the window. I can't very well yell at him in front of either of the boys, so I take a deep breath and open the door calmly, "Adrian, can I see you for a minute?"

He doesn't look at me as he answers, "I'm in the middle of a game."

I lower my voice, "Pause it." He scoffs, and my blood burns a little hotter. Stepping inside, I located the fuse panel next to the kitchen, flipping the switch for the living area. "Now, Adrian."

"That voice may work on her, but not me."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He throws the controller on the table, "You know exactly what I mean."

I open my mouth, but Xander's door opens, sticking the words in my throat. "Papa?"

"Xander go to your mother." I point toward the door, then look to Paul, "You too."

I wait until I see them enter the main house before turning back to Adrian. He stands at the counter, a bottle of Tito's in his hand, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

"Don't be a smartass." He tips the bottle back with a smirk, pissing me off even more, "What is your problem?"

"I am not the one with a problem. I was simply playing a game with my cousin, which you interrupted."

"You know that's not what I am talking about."

"Enlighten me then, _Comrade._" he sneers my nickname.

"What happens between Rose and me is none of your concern. But if you said or did something to upset her, I will make certain that it doesn't happen again."

"Oh. So you're protecting her?" his lips curve into a sly smile, "That's funny, Dimitri. You see, _I _protected her from every guy in school who tried to hurt her. _I _protected her from herself on more than one occasion. _I _held her fucking hand through every appointment and the labor of _your_ son." He pauses, chest rising and falling in rapid breaths, and there is a look in his eyes that I haven't seen from him before, but one I recognize. "I was there for her when no one else was. I was the one she called day and night when she was hurting. Me. Not you."

"You're in love with her," I say without question.

He taps his nose, "Bingo. But," he spans his arms wide, "She doesn't want me. She wants you. It's always been you. Even after everything you put her through, she still chose you."

I don't know if I'm angry or confused more. Rose told me there was never anything going on between her and Adrian. That he was wrapped up in Sydney the whole time. What happened there? And did she know about Adrain's feelings for her?

"What about Sydney?"

"Too many obstacles. Never would have worked in the long run."

"When?"

"When what?"

"When did you fall in love with her?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was when I found her on the bathroom floor. Or when she was hiding in the locker room at school because people kept fucking with her. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the day Xander was born and I saw her in the worst state of her entire life, and all I could think was, '_fuck she is perfect'_. Anyone one of those moments may have done it."

"Does she know?"

"Of course she knows," putting the cap on the bottle he slides it back into the cupboard, "But it doesn't matter. You two are going to get your happily ever after - after all. Enjoy it." Grabbing the keys to the rental, he pushes past me, pausing at the door, "And if you must know. I told her I hope she finds the happiness she's been searching for, but if she doesn't, not to come crying to me again. I can't watch her go through that a second time." He steps out, disappearing around the corner.

Of all the things I could have predicted him being upset about, that should have been one of them. I should have realized how close they are, but I overlooked it because she told me nothing was going on. And maybe there wasn't in the physical aspect, but emotionally, it's a whole different story. The worst part about it, I can't even be mad at him. He stepped up when I couldn't. He was there for her when I wasn't. For fuck sake, he helped raise my son.

How can I be mad at him?

I can't.

I'm not sure how much time passes before I hear the car doors closing on the other side of the house. Splashing water on my face, I clean up and head inside to help prepare dinner, pretending the last hour of my life never happened.

For tonight. Tomorrow I'll talk to him again.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I'm sorry for the delay, Loves. I am on strict deadlines right now and it's taking up every spare moment I have to complete everything on time. Hopefully, next weeks update will arrive on time, but I make no promises at this time. I will finish this story no matter what - do not fear that - it just might take a little longer than expected. **

**Thank you for all of your reviews/faves/follows. I'm sorry I haven't emailed back on any in a few chapters - again, freaking deadlines. But please know that I appreciate you all taking the time to leave your thoughts. **

**Have a wonderful week! **

**All My Love, **

**Dream**


	20. Chapter 20

_**Chapter Twenty**_

_**Dimitri**_

* * *

I'm at a loss.

I have no idea how to navigate the waters from here. Since I came to America, I've been alone - never having to worry about other people's opinions or feelings with anything I say or do. That's not a luxury I have anymore. Everything I say or do affects someone somehow.

It's like I'm walking on eggshells.

Rose is upset with me for approaching Adrian the way I did. Adrian has been gone for two days now - _M.I.A. _in Dallas somewhere. He won't tell any of us where, but he said he is fine. And Xander is upset that is Uncle left. I worry that if I say or do the wrong thing, I will undo all of the work I have done to build a relationship with him.

"Hey," Karo sit's beside me in the yellow deck chair, crossing her legs and leaning back into the comfortable wood. "Want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Whatever it is that's eating you."

Xander. Rose. Adrian. Vika. Sonja. Shall I continue?

"It's nothing."

She shakes her head, "I don't believe that any more than you do."

Shrugging my shoulders, I lean back, taking in the expansive night sky. The stars are brighter tonight than I have ever seen before out here. Or maybe it's just that I never paid much mind to them before now. I've sat on this deck hundreds - thousands - of times before and I can't recall a time when I could see so many twinkling lights.

"You love her, right?" I nod, "And I know you love Xander."

"Of course."

"Then I suggest you let it go. Talk to her, then find Adrian and make things right. He has done a lot for her, and Mama, in your absence. It's not his fault he fell in love with her any more than it was yours when you first did."

"I know. I realized that not long after he left. I'm not mad at him, I just don't want him giving Rose a hard time about us being together."

"Then tell him that. Tell him what you told her."

I roll my head, "What do you know about that?"

"I've known her for almost twenty years, I can read her just as well as you can. She wouldn't have just fallen back into your arms unless she believed that you wouldn't leave again."

"I won't," I say those words more to myself than to her. "I won't give up on her again."

"I know, but he doesn't." Sitting up, she pats my arm, "Talk to him. Everything will work itself out." With that, she leaves me to stare at the stars alone.

_**Dimitri: **_Can we talk?

_**Adrian: **_Are Rose and Xander okay?

Oddly enough, I smile at his response.

_**Dimitri: **_Yes.

_**Adrian: **_Then no.

_**Dimitri: **_So if they weren't okay...you'd talk to me?

_**Adrian: **_No. Just making sure.

_**Dimitri: **_Adrian, come on. I am trying to make things right here.

The message bubble changes colors, telling me he read the message. I wait a few moments to see if he will reply. Nothing. Part of me says fuck it - let him hang out in the saltwater all by himself. The other part of me - the reasonable part that is coming back to life - says to just tell him. If I can't get him to come back and sit down - man to man - then I'll just text it to him.

_**Dimitri: **_Look. I know I didn't handle things the right way, and I am sorry for that. But I want to make it right. I know how much you care about her, everything you did for them while I wasn't around. I'm grateful that you were there for them when I wasn't. And I don't want what's happening between Rose and me to come between your relationship with her. She loves you, Adrian. So does Xander. They need you. Please. Just come back to the house and we can talk.

_**Adrian: **_I'll think about it.

It's not a definite yes, but I'll take it. Clicking my phone locked, I slide it in my back pocket and head inside to join the others in the living room. Rose had the ingenious idea to restart Friday Night Movies for the whole family. The kid's make a giant blanket bed in front of the fireplace - falling asleep halfway through. This week is _Wreck-It Ralph - _fitting.

"Need help?" Vika asks, reaching down to pick up the bowl of popcorn the kids devoured.

"Sure. Thank you." I whisper. All four kids and Rose are passed out on the floor and I don't want to wake them. Gathering the glasses, I head into the kitchen. Vika following with the bowls and trash.

Looking into the living room, she smiles, "I missed this."

"Me too." I smile, "Although, the movies we watched as children were better than these."

"Definitely. Even though you never really watched any of them."

"I can't tell you I'm sorry."

"I wouldn't expect you to." She looks back toward Rose and Xander, "I knew something was going on long before you left, we all did. I was just angry at both of you for never saying anything."

"Everyone knew?"

"You didn't think you were that slick, did you? Staying at 'Neil's' every weekend that Zemy just so happened to be out of town?"

I can't help it, I laugh, "I thought it was a good cover."

"Yeah, maybe the first time."

"If you knew all along, why did you say something?"

"You two were happy," she lifts one shoulder, turning around to grab a towel to wipe down the counter, "I didn't want to ruin that."

"Why did you cut her off then if you knew about us?"

"Because she wouldn't tell you." She stops cleaning, crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the counter. "At first, I thought it was an attempt to trap you in Baia. Then I talked to Adrian, and he told me it wasn't planned. I believed him. When I went back to talk to her, I told her she needed to call you. You had the right to know. But she refused, saying she didn't want to ruin your chance at having the life you wanted. As much as I understand her point of view, I didn't agree with it."

"So you left?"

"I wanted out of Baia just as much as you did. I went to school in Moscow, graduated with honors, and I have an amazing job with the _Zeklos Law Firm_."

I arch a brow at the name, letting it back down a second later. Zeklos is a common enough name in that area, it's a slim chance that it would have anything to do with Ivan's family.

"That's great, Vika. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you." her smile is genuine. "I'm proud of you too, you know? It may not seem that way, given that I have acted like a brat these last few weeks, but I am."

"Why the change of heart tonight?"

"Avoiding you and Rose has left me with nothing more to do than think about everything that's happened. I'll admit, I was angry in the beginning. When Mama first called to tell me what was going on with you, I laughed." Her chin dips to her chest, "My very first thought was that you got what you deserved. Not five minutes after I hung up with Ma, I looked up flights to America. I realized that no matter how upset I was for all those years, you needed help. That's all that mattered. You're my brother, for better or worse, and I couldn't sit back and watch you destroy the life you worked so hard for. I couldn't watch you turn into him."

My throat tightens, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. We all fall sometimes, we all need help at points. As long as you get back up, make the most of your experiences - that's what matters." She rests her hand on top of mine, squeezing once, "And I'm sorry for being such a bitch. I know you and Rose are trying to make things work, I shouldn't add to the stress."

"Are you okay with that?" I hold up my hand, halting her response, "Not that it's going to stop us, but I do want to know how you feel."

"I want you to be happy. If that's with her, then so be it. Besides, I can't very well be mad at you both for trying to put your family back together. Xander deserves to have his father around."

"I just want to give them both the best life possible. One that includes all of you."

"We'd like that."

I open my arms for her, pulling her tight to my chest. "Me too," I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

It's funny to me. Five weeks ago I had no one. My house was empty and I had one friend who had one foot out the door of my life. Now, my house is crowded and my heart is full. I have started rebuilding the bridges with my sisters - Sonja is the only one left. And hopefully, Adrian will come back soon and I can fix that too. Slowly but surely I am taking steps in the right direction to get to where I want to be. _Where I need to be. _

This is the life I should have been living all along. This - my family - is what I needed. I just didn't realize it at the time.

I should thank Ash, maybe send him a fruit basket or something. If it wasn't for him butting in when he wasn't asked, who knows where I would be. I'll do that in the morning.

"And by the way," she chuckles, looking up at me, "Your sneaking around skills still suck."

"Noted."

* * *

_Thank you, Ash. _Putting my pen down, I tuck the little card in the envelope, licking it once to seal.

I volunteered to get breakfast this morning, using the time to stop by the store and grab a gift card to the steakhouse for Ash and Eddie. They would enjoy that more than the _I-don't-really-give-a-fuck_ fruit basket. Dropping the card in the mailbox outside of _Karp's Cafe_, I head inside to pick up scones for the girls, and breakfast burritos for the boys.

"Dimitri," the blonde from last time calls my name, tilting her head to one side, "You are Dimitri, right?"

"Yeah," I drag out the word.

"I saw your order come through and hoped you would be the one picking up." She grabs two boxes from behind the counter and walks around. Holding out a hand, "I'm Lissa."

I take her petit hand in mine, looking over her face for recognition. I know I have seen her outside of the cafe. I just can't quite put my finger on the pulse. "Do I know you from somewhere? Other than here, I mean."

She looks around, I'm not sure what she's checking for - until she leans forward, whispering, "I'm dating Tasha Ozera's nephew. We were at the bar a few weeks back with her."

_Bing._ On goes the lightbulb, "Look, I-"

She raises her hand, "I know. Trust me, I don't approve of her actions. She is a little...how do I put this nicely.."

"Pshyco?"

"That's not nice," her tone is disapproving, though her laugh says she agrees.

"But it's true," I point a finger.

"Yeah. She can be a little crazy." she waves a hand, "Anyway, I wanted to ask, do you know Rosemarie Mazur? I saw you two in here about a month ago."

_Yeah, the day you shoved your tits in my face_. "Why are you asking?"

"She's my step-sister." _Fuck. _"I hoped she would come back by, but I haven't seen her. I have something for her, from her mother. Would you mind telling her to give me a call?" She pulls a piece of paper from her apron.

"I can tell her, but I wouldn't hold your breath." I take it, sliding it into the front pocket of my jeans.

"I know they never had the best relationship-"

"And you and your brother treated her like shit." I bite out.

"How…"

"I've known Rose for a long time. I know all about_ you, your brother,_ and _everything_ her mother put her through," she backs up a step at my tone.

"I...I...," she stammers, handing me the box. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." She spins on her heel, speed walking back to the counter.

What just happened? One second we're joking and the next she's running as if I started to turn green and shred my clothes. I may not care for her - knowing everything about the way she treated Roza while she visited her mother - but I didn't mean to scare her.

_Add remorse for strangers to the list of new shit in my life. _I don't know why, but I feel the need to apologize - to explain why I got angry.

"Lissa-"

"It's okay."

"No. I'm sorry, I just.." I set the box on the counter, scrubbing both hands over my face, "Rose means a lot to me. I was there when she came home from visiting and every time she got back, she would cry for hours in my lap. I'm a little protective of her."

"Oh." her cheeks redden, "I didn't know, but it explains why she is in the states."

Shit. _Quick, think of a lie, Dimitri._ "She came over with my family to visit. We're all very close." There we go, half-lie, half-truth -believable.

We haven't discussed when and how we want to announce our relationship to the world, having to play it safe for Xander's sake. I don't need Lissa telling anyone we are anything more than friends. I am not gunning for extra drama right now.

"That's wonderful." _She's not buying it._ "I won't say anything," she whispers.

The breath I didn't know I was holding rushes past my lips, "Thank you." Grabbing the box, I step back, "I'll tell her, but like I said, I wouldn't hold your breath."

"If she won't, will you come by and get it. Her will said it was only to go to Rose, I wouldn't feel right keeping it."

"Will?"

Her lips press together in a tight line, giving a small nod, "Yeah. She and my dad passed about ten years ago. I tried to call her father, but could never get through." No surprise there, Zemy changes his number like I change underwear. "I just want to return the items to their family."

I swallow hard, nodding once to tell her I will, and turn to leave.

As far as I know, Rose hasn't seen or talked to her mother in sixteen years. What could she have possibly left for her?

The drive home takes longer than usual - or at least it feels that way. According to the clock, it was only twenty minutes, but in my mind it took hours. How am I supposed to tell Rose to call her step-sister, knowing the news she is going to receive? Close or not, losing your parents isn't easy. I hated my father, but I still felt like shit the day I kicked him out of our lives. It's like a part of you is permanently cut from your body. Good or bad - it's still a missing piece. It might be best to get her away from everyone before bringing it up, just in case.

Parking _Rebel_, I head in through the garage, pulling my keys from my pocket to hang them on the hook, before joining everyone in the living area to dish out the food.

Grabbing Rose's hand, I pull her from her seat and into my arms, "I love you and I am sorry." She tilts her head, her silent question not lost on me. I nod, telling her I am okay, and drop a kiss to her forehead. She leans back, rising to her toes to press her lips to mine.

This is the first time we have kissed in front of everyone. I have to say, it's refreshing. We've always had to hide - _or think we were hiding_. Being able to hold and kiss her without worry is amazing.

Xander shields his eyes, "Gross, you guys," he says with a laugh. "Can you not do that in front of me?"

"What? You don't like me loving on Mama?"

"I don't like seeing it, that's for sure." He flips open one box, grabbing a burrito.

"How do you think-"

I silence my nephew with a glare. "Not old enough, Paul."

"Old enough for what?" Xander looks between me and Paul.

"Nothing." Rose and I say at the same time. I point to his breakfast, "Just eat."

"Fine," he takes a giant bite, making a big show of him chewing.

I shake my head, laughing, "Anyway," I turn to Rose, "How do you feel about taking a trip with me?"

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know yet." I shrug, taking her face between my hands, "I just want to take a drive with you."

Her lips curve upward into that smile I've been deprived of for days, "I'm in."


	21. Chapter 21

_**Chapter Twenty One**_

_**Dimitri**_

* * *

Surveying my spread, I pat myself on the back - romance for the win. Fresh cut fruits, deli meats, cheeses, crackers, and a couple of Dr. Peppers, oh -and let me not forget to mention the sound of the Colorado River flowing in the background.

When I was first called up for the Riders, I spent the off days driving around the city with an atlas. Old-school. If you want to find places off the beaten path, Google can't help you. I drove the dirt road - not knowing where I would end up - until I found what I was looking for. A place to go when life became too much.

You know the kind of place I'm talking about. Right? One that only the life-time locals know about. The single table tucked inside of a cluster of trees that you can't see from the road. It's a place that brings you a sense of aloneness - but not loneliness. You're one with nature. Breathing in the fresh air, allowing it to clear your thoughts, purify your heart.

Solitude.

Life today isn't what it used to be. Between smartphones, twitter, and facebook, you are connected to the world in so many ways it's easy to get lost. Sucked into the drama and trends sweeping the internet. I have never been a fan of social media - considering the damage it can do with only a click of a button - yet, it's a necessity nowadays. On job applications, you have to fill out your social media address's so that the employers can check your friend's list and wall posts. As a society, we have become reliant on such technology.

And that's the problem.

Every so often, once a month at least, I feel the need to vanish. Unplug from the media, the constant go-go-go of my life, and just breathe in the beauty that is nature. I drive out here, leave my phone in the truck parked half a mile away on the side of the road, and ignore the world. No phone calls. No texts. No media. Just me, the trees, and the soft echo of the river running. _Call me the Lorax. _

I had told Rose when she first arrived that I wanted to be me again, just for a little while. The boy I was before America, fame, and fortune. I don't have that luxury. I've accepted that fact. No matter where I go or what I do, someone somewhere can recognize me. And depending on the day, it could go one of two ways.

So I settle for this. It's the closest I will ever get until I retire.

Unlike normal, today my phone is in my pocket, just in case of an emergency at home and I am not sitting on top of the table staring into the river alone. Roza sits across from me, eyes closed, soaking in the sound of the water rushing downstream, the feel of the cool breeze stirring her hair around her shoulders. She looks at peace. In her little bubble. And I'm about to prick it with a needle.

"Have you talked to Adrian," I ask, popping a grape into my mouth.

"He called me this morning while you were getting breakfast. He said he would be back soon, but he was still trying to think some things through."

"What is there for him to think through?"

She sets her fork down, running a hand through her hair, "He doesn't want to stay here, but he doesn't want to go back home either. Guess he is just trying to figure out what move would be best for him."

"Is it because of us?"

"Partly. I think he is upset for multiple reasons, honestly."

"How do you feel about that?" I hold my breath waiting for her answer.

I'm not worried that she would pack up and go with him. She wouldn't tear our family apart - it's barely holding together as is. We have a long way to go before things are solid and secure in our lives. I just hope if Adrian leaves, it doesn't slow down the drying process.

"I want him to do whatever will make him happy. After Syd, he shut down for a while. He will never admit it, but he still loves her, even though she left him." Wait? Sydney left Adrian? I would have figured it was the other way around with the way he shrugged it off the other morning. "It's Xander I'm worried about. Adrian is his best friend."

"I think he will be okay. Once we enroll him in school, he will make new friends."

She stabs a piece of cantaloupe, "Yeah, but you can't replace family."

I pause at her tone, my jaw locking to the point of pain. Whether she meant to kick me in the balls with that statement or not, she did. I know you can't replace family. I know that stand-in parents - or even siblings - are only good for the time they spend there. Your family may come and go, but they will always be there in the end. Well, my family will at least. _I am exhibit-A in that theory. _

"You're right. I didn't mean it to sound as if he would be replaced, rather Xander would be distracted. I have a feeling, no matter what Adrian decides, he will always be around for you and Xander when you need him. He loves you both."

She nods, stabbing another piece of innocent fruit. We eat in silence, enjoying the late November breeze. It's not cold enough for a winter jacket, more like thin sweater weather. One thing I think Rose will love about Texas the most, no harsh winters like home. Snowfall is minimal and the number of days below freezing is less than a month total through the winter season. I can recount more than one New Year's Eve where it was warm enough to wear shorts and a T-shirt. Now summer on the other hand...that's a whole nother story. She may come to hate the hundred-degree months.

"So, are you going to tell me the real reason we are here?"

"I thought it would be nice for us to-"

"Don't lie to me," her brown eyes lock onto mine, holding my stare. "I know it's more than wanting some quality time."

Grabbing the plastic lid, I close my container, setting it to the side to grab a napkin, taking my time wiping my hands and the small area of the table in front of me. I'm not stalling. Promise. Okay. Maybe I am. I have been all day and I still have no idea how to tell her that her mother is no longer with the living. _Is this how she felt before telling me about Xander? _I could just tell her. Man up and blurt it out. Or I could ask if she has spoken with her in the last decade, or at least thought about her since she arrived. She has to know that they lived not twenty minutes from Dallas. Forty from my property.

"Dimitri."

Folding my hands in my lap, I fill my lungs, "I saw Lissa." _Good start, D. _

"This morning." Her tone doesn't present as questioning, rather stating. From her pocket, she pulls a crumpled piece of paper, "I found this on the floor by the door."

"She wants you to call her. About your Mom."

"I don't want to hear what that woman has to say."

"She can't say anything." I wait for the words to click. _Three. Two. One. _Her eyes widen, "I'm sorry, Roza."

"You're lying." Denial. It's always the first step. "Why would you lie about something like that?"

"I'm not. At least not to my knowledge." I reach out for her hand, but she pulls back. Swallowing, I push the knot of emotions back down to my stomach, "Lissa told me Janine and Eric passed several years ago. They tried to contact your dad but couldn't get through."

"How?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask." I should have. If nothing else to give Rose a small sense of what happened to her - them. She had a better relationship with her stepfather than her mother. If any part of this will hit her, it will be his loss. "She left something for you."

"A parting gift," she snorts. Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, she laughs, "I don't want it. I don't want to know. I don't want to see Lissa. I don't care."

Between her constant eye-twitch and the stream of tears - well it doesn't take a fucking rocket scientist to tell she is lying. With each second that passes, every rambled thought to spill from her lips, I see the walls being built around her. Walls I have worked tirelessly to tear down. She is closing her self off from the emotions ricocheting through her mind and heart, shutting me out.

And I fucking hate it. Loathe it. Despise and whatever other words that mean hate that I can't think of right now. Sad thing is, the walls aren't the worst part. Those can be torn back down with a few words and hard swings. But I won't be the one to do it. I can't. She doesn't want my comfort right now. She hasn't had my shoulder to cry on for so long that I am not the one she needs. Mama and Adrian are.

"Let me take you home," I offer her a hand. She nods but doesn't take it.

We walk in silence down the hillside to where I left the truck parked. I open the passenger door, helping her climb into the truck, and close it, rounding the hood to my door. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it. Whoever it is can wait an hour until we get home. And if it's an emergency, they would call.

_Rebel_ roars to life, valves ticking as she warms up from sitting for several hours. I hadn't realized how long we had been out here. Four hours according to the clock on the dash. It's easy to lose track when you're enjoying the peace of mother nature. That is until someone lights a wildfire - killing the mood. _Mentally points to self. _

Should I have waited? Maybe, but either way, it was going to hurt her. There is no easy way to tell someone about the death of a family member. No matter how much you want to pretend you don't care. You care. I'll be there for her when she is ready. And so will Mama and the girls. Hopefully, Adrian makes his reappearance soon too, lord knows she will him, considering the way she is curling herself against the door. Pushing herself as far away from me as possible within the confines of the cab.

I'm not angry about it. Hurt, but not angry. But I won't let it show. I promised her I would be by her side - every day of forever - good and bad. This is a moment to prove that. She can push herself away all she wants to. I'm not going anywhere.

"Who's Ivan?" Rose asks, looking at the display screen showing the text alert.

"One of my teammates." I press the ignore button, and another message comes through.

Handing Rose my phone, I ask her to check the messages. I don't text and drive. We're only a few minutes from home, but Ivan's not one to send me multiple texts out of nowhere. "He says he's back in Dallas and headed to the house. He has lots to tell you."

"Can you text him back and tell him not tonight." Flipping down my visor, I press the button to open the gate.

"I think it's a little late for that," she tips her head toward the classic Chevy in my driveway. _Great. _"Does he do this often? Just show up?"

"Yeah, sometimes." I kill the engine and jump out, hollering to Ivan. "Hey, Fuckface."

"Belikov," his sing-song voice rings through the night air. Rushing down the few steps he flings himself into my arms, "I missed you - you beautiful asshole."

"I can see that," prying him from my body, I look at him from an arms-length. I don't recall a time I have ever seen him this happy. Not even the series win put that big of a smile on his face. If it wasn't for the fact that I know he has a penis in his pants, I would bet he was pregnant by the glow radiating off of him. "You're smiling. Like megawatt smiling."

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. I have so much to tell you."

"And I would love to hear all about it," tossing one arm over his shoulder, I steer him back toward his car, "But can it wait until Monday? We can catch up before camp starts."

The truck door shutting draws his attention, halting the plea I assume he was about to dish out. "Oh shit, man. I'm sorry, didn't know you were bringing home company."

"I didn't." Holding my hand out, I silently call her forward. "Ivan, this is Rose." Dropping my arm over her shoulder, I brush a kiss to the top of her head. "Rose, my best friend, teammate, and the largest pain in my ass, Ivan."

Swooping down, he lifts Rose into the air and spins around, "Thank you," he says, setting her back down.

"For what?"

Ivan looks between us, eyes lingering on my arm wrapped around Rose's shoulders, her body pressed close to mine. Waving a finger up and down toward me, "For this. I have never seen him this content."

"Thank you for taking care of him over the years." Patting my chest, she steps out of my embrace, "I'm going to check on Xander. It was nice to meet you, Ivan."

"You too, Rose." We watch her walk inside, as soon as the door closes, he punches me in the arm, "How the fuck did you ever walk away from her?"

"Ow, asshole." I rub the spot, not that it soothes the sting, "I still don't know."

"You're an idiot, that's how."

His arm shifts forward to hit me again, I sidestep him, "I know. I've been reminded of that plenty over the last month. Anyway, I'd love to invite you in and catch up, but it's been a rough day."

"No worries. Take care of your girl." He waves me off, opening the door of his forest green Chevelle. "Text me tomorrow or something, we need to get together before camp anyways to work out the drills. We can talk then."

"I appreciate it."

He climbs in and takes off. Locking my truck, I climb the stairs and head inside. It's late, but not late enough for everyone to be asleep. Vika sit's in the armchair, a paperback in her hands. Leaning forward, I read the name under her fingertips - _Last at Bat._ She's reading a baseball book?

"What are you reading?" Propping myself on the arm of the chair, I wait for her to look up at me. "Um, hello?"

"Shh…" Her eyes fly across the page, mouth opening and closing in little gasps. Whatever it is, it must be good. "Oh my. Oh my. NOOOO!" _Smack._ She slams the book closed. "Oh no she didn't!"

"She totally did." With her finger still holding her place, she rares back, hitting me with the book. "Hey now! Why are you beating me with a dead tree?"

"I'm hitting you with you," she growls. "Did you know about this? Did they give you a copy?"

"What are you talking about?" Holding the book up, she waves the cover in my face. "Well damn. I look good."

"Did you know she was sleeping with his best friend?"

"Vika, even if they gave me a copy, I wouldn't read it. Romance isn't really my thing. Maybe you should ask Rose."

"Already did, she hasn't seen it."

"So what makes you think I have?"

"I don't know, your face is on it? Though I will say, it's kind of creepy thinking of your picture as the character." She shivers, "Really creepy."

"Well stop then." I toss the book back at her, "Where's Xander?"

"Playing games with Paul in the pool house."

"And Rose?" I look upstairs, hoping to see Mama's door open. No luck.

"With Ma. What did you do this time?"

"Nothing. I'll let her tell you when she is ready." Shifting off the arm, I stuff my hands in my pockets, "I'm going to check on Xander if she comes out and asks."

She nods, opening the book to continue reading. With one last look upstairs, I leave my girl to the comfort of my Mama and check on my son.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry for the delay in updates. I was in Colorado last week and had family events all weekend. I should have the next two updates done on time. The first and second Sundays in Nov we will more than likely not have any as I will be out of the country on a cruise. Thanks for hanging with me, Y'all. **

**All My Love,**

**Dream**


	22. Author's Note

I know we're not supposed to post author's notes as chapters, but it's the only way I can reach everyone. I'm sorry this isn't an update for y'all, but after I posted the last chapter and went back and read it, I realized that the two reviews I got about Dimitri's character traits were spot on. I wasn't writing Dimitri, I was writing my hero. Guess that's what I get for being knee-deep in my personal work and trying to slap together a chapter for y'all.

I want to - and will - finish _Bases Loaded_, but it's not what I envisioned it to be at this point. I am putting way too much on my plate. You guys deserve the best, not slapped together chapters in an hour or two and sporadic updates that are barely cracking 2k.

I appreciate the two people who were honest in the reviews, pointing out that I am sailing downhill with this story. I honestly paid no mind to the difference until you both said something. I am ashamed of myself for putting less than my best online. I am striving to improve every day in my writing with my personal work, but just because this isn't something I'm publishing for real, doesn't mean I shouldn't give it my best.

Thank you to all who are reading, reviewing, following and favoriting this story. I appreciate each and every one of you who take time out of your day to leave your thoughts. It really does mean the world to me. Good or bad; each review has an important impact on me. And my silent readers - though I wish I knew your thoughts, I'm glad your along for the ride.

At this time, I do not have a time frame on when I will come back to this. I may just finish it when I have the time and upload the last six chapters at once, or a couple each week. I'm not sure right now. Things are quickly coming to a head with this novel and I have to train my focus on that.

Thank you. I love Y'all. I won't be gone long.

Dream

-If you wish to keep up with me and the take-off of my author career, follow me on facebook. Www dot facebook dot com forward-slash dreamwalkersobsession

I'm planning to build my original author's page between Thanksgiving and Christmas, launching my book in February around the time Spring Training starts for the MLB (major league baseball) since book one of the series is baseball themed. I won't delete the Dream account - I have no plan to at all - so I will still be there as well.


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